


Haven't Had Enough

by pidgeonpostal



Series: The RWBY Hockey AUs [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Ace Ops are mentioned, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Background Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Biting, Bottom Qrow Branwen, Break Up, Clover Ebi Makes Bad Decisions, Getting Back Together, JNPR minor appearances, Jacques Schnee is mentioned, James Ironwood is here to advance the plot, M/M, Oscar is here too, RWBY minor appearances, Top Clover Ebi, Winter is mentioned, sex with talking, smut chapter, some dubious hockey politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27583855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeonpostal/pseuds/pidgeonpostal
Summary: Clover is the captain of the Atlas Aces. Qrow is the coach for his nieces' junior league team who got called in as an emergency backup goalie for Vale once against the Aces. Clover shoots his shot, and they go from there.First chapter is just "Emergency Backup Qrow," reposted. Chapter six will be smut, and is sectioned off from the rest of the fic for both easy access and easy skipping, because I know I'm both of those people sometimes. Read up to it if you like Flirting and Getting Together. Read after it if you like The Drama! Ends happily because I'm a sucker.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: The RWBY Hockey AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016287
Comments: 78
Kudos: 85





	1. Emergency Backup Qrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is just [Emergency Backup Qrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666368) but is reposted for those who haven't read that first. Feel comfortable skipping it if you've read that, they are almost the same (I swapped "goddamn" for "fucking" in exactly one place.)

For about forty-five minutes of game time, Qrow thought he might have actually had a bit of good luck.

He got a call from the Vale Hunters’ office the morning of, asking if he could sit in the press box for that night’s game. It was standard procedure, they explained, to ask a local league goalie to be on standby in case something happened to both of a team’s goalies, and their usual picks were unavailable. Something about having any goalie being better than no goalie, though the chances of anything actually happening were slim. But the ticket was free, and his kids had a night off from practice anyway, so he agreed and got to watch a damn good game against the Atlas Aces.

Then, of course, the Hunters’ goalie got their skate caught up in a player, and went down  _ hard. _

Suddenly the press box was a flurry of motion, and Qrow found himself being led down to the locker rooms. The team backup goalie, something had happened to the team backup goalie, they couldn’t play, and now he was signing something and someone was handing him a green Hunters jersey and—

The lights were so much brighter, on the ice. It made it hard to see the crowd, but he could hear them, feel the sound in his bones. The jumbotron flashed and he looked up through his helmet, his fucking  _ Beacon University Strikers  _ helmet.

_ Atlas Aces - 3. Vale Hunters - 4. 3rd period, 14:59 remaining. _

_ EMERGENCY BACKUP GOALIE: _

_ 13 - QROW BRANWEN. _

The puck dropped.

Qrow couldn’t say what happened, moment to moment. He only remembered pieces, later. A shot from the blue line directly to his chest, his first block of the night. He held the puck in his hand for a moment, trying to absorb the fact that it was a  _ professional league puck  _ that an  _ Atlas Ace  _ had shot at him, before handing it off to the referee.

A second time, a pass flew across his vision, and he dropped low into full splits as he slid to deflect the shot. Someone on his team shouted happy expletives. Someone else nearby whistled, long and low, and another someone told them to shut it. Above them all, the crowd roared its approval.

Qrow would block a shot, watch the puck fly to the other side of the ice, and have just long enough while his team was on offense to stop and absorb the mental image of the Atlas player who took the shot, their face flicking down to the puck and back up to stare directly at Qrow. It was exhilarating, to be the target of that stare, and when he heard them shout in frustration he couldn’t help but grin.

He was an EBUG, he shouldn’t even be here. But if they wanted to get past him, he was damn well going to make them work for it.

Fifteen minutes came and went and the buzzer sounded, and Qrow thought the crowd couldn’t get any louder but he was wrong, so wrong. The echo off the arena walls made him shake. The pounding of the music synced to the beat of his heart. The game had ended the way it had started for him, a 4-3 win, and he was nearly crushed by a rush of players he’d seen only on streams or through the glass that now separated him from what ought to have been reality.

The press asked him questions in the locker room. How did it feel? He didn’t know. What had it been like? Bright, loud.

“How did it feel to take a shot from Clover Ebi?”

Qrow remembered that one. Fast as hell and through a crowded zone, but he saw it coming and caught it on a skate, just barely. “Guess he just got unlucky,” he smirked. They laughed and eventually dispersed.

Players came by to ruffle Qrow’s hair and congratulate him, which was awful, or to slap him on the shoulder and congratulate him, which was marginally better, before heading down the hallway out of the arena, until only a few were left. In the resulting quiet, Qrow heard the sound of soft footsteps coming towards them. “Are the press gone?” someone asked from the hallway.

From Qrow’s position, they were blocked by a wall, but Port’s stall was near the door, and he glanced up and seemed to recognize them. Port chuckled. “Got a lot of nerve showing your face here. Didn’t feel beaten enough?”

“Just here to offer some congratulations.”

Goodwitch looked about ready to tell them where to shove their congratulations, but Ozpin held up a hand to stop her. “Let him in,” he said, that famous glint in his eyes.

The adrenaline still hadn’t worn off, and Qrow dropped abruptly from euphoria to a sudden sense of foreboding. That was the look Ozpin got setting up Goodwitch for a perfect power play goal. Qrow had seen it on highlight reel after highlight reel. Ozpin knew something. Qrow immediately looked around for any sign of a prank.

Instead,  _ Clover Fucking Ebi, _ Captain of the Atlas Aces, best center in the whole damn Remnant Hockey League, walked in the door with his hands up. “Scout’s honor, not here to start anything,” he smiled, and that was as much as Qrow heard before he realized two things.

First, that Clover Ebi had shucked his pads, but he was still in his game day undershirt and leggings, drenched in sweat and hot as sin and now would be a great, great time to black out and fast forward again, to a point in time where Qrow did not have to think about being in a room with Clover Fucking Ebi.

The second thing was that this walking fantasy had turned and was walking towards Qrow’s stall and had already said something that Qrow had completely missed.

Dazed and loose, Qrow guessed what it might have been. “Thanks,” he said. “Unexpected night.” At the very least, his voice came out fairly even, didn’t crack or anything. He might just survive this. He even managed a kind of smile, shaky with nerves but passable.

Ebi smirked, which Qrow wasn’t sure how to interpret. Had he guessed the question wrong? “Blocked a couple of hard shots,” Ebi said instead of clarifying. Up close, his hair was plastered down to the top of his head, his cheeks were still pink from exertion, and it was getting really, awfully hard for Qrow to think of anything that wasn’t about either of those two things.

Qrow shrugged to give himself time to think of something normal to say. “I’ve had harder.”

Fuck.

Ebi’s eyebrows shot up. Past him, Qrow swore he heard someone snort. “That so,” Ebi said carefully. It looked like he was trying not to grin. “Well, I’ll have to step up my game for the next time we play each other. It was nice to meet you, Qrow.” And he held out his hand.

In a daze, Qrow shook Clover Ebi’s hand, still reeling at hearing him say his name. “Uh. Likewise, Mr. Ebi.”

“Clover, to you. We’re coworkers now.” Clover grinned, and winked.

By the time Qrow’s heart restarted, Clover had already left.

There was a brief, blessed moment of silence.

Oobleck, in the stall on his right, clapped his shoulder before standing up to leave. “Well, that seems to be going swimmingly!”

“What?” Qrow turned to stare at him.

Oobleck stared back, and Qrow felt like he was being analyzed. “It seemed to go well. As I’ve heard the saying goes, ‘shoot your shot.’” And with that, he walked out.

Qrow watched him go, then looked down at his hand. There was a scrap of note paper in it with a phone number scrawled on it in sharpie.

When he looked up again, Ozpin was smiling at him from across the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was based on some [delightful art by afoolforatook](https://afoolforatook.tumblr.com/post/631084780961824768) (they actually have a whole tag of Fair Game Hockey AU!) and the idea of Qrow as an EBUG was inspired by a [delightful real story of an emergency backup goalie,](https://ingoalmag.com/news/36-year-old-ebug-scott-foster-makes-seven-stops-blackhawks-thursday-night-win) who admitted that he sort of "blacked out" while playing the actual game. Stressful situations are just like that, I suppose.


	2. Team Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow and his hockey team go to a diner, and Qrow sends some texts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally called "Brunch" but let's be honest, they're having breakfast, they're just having it at noon.

Qrow woke up the next day to twenty texts from Yang during last night’s game, eleven missed calls from Ruby right after the game, and legs so shaky he could barely stand. But it was the first Saturday of the month, and he’d learned the hard way that on those Saturdays, if he didn’t get up in time, Ruby would make it her personal mission to ensure he made it to team breakfast.

He groaned at the ceiling and put his phone back on the floor next to his bed to go find pants. After falling over the first time trying to put them on standing up—his right leg didn’t take his full weight, but that wasn’t horribly unexpected a day after a game—he gave up and put them on sitting down before staggering to the bathroom.

He read through the texts while brushing his teeth. Yang had apparently live-tweeted the entire game at him.

_!! Helluva save!!_

_Lol they just showed the Atlas bench, you have an admirer_

_KICK HIS ASS UNCLE_

_HOLY SHIT U SHUT OUT THE ACES_

_Ruby is screaming you need to pick up_

_Uncle Qrow, please I’m begging you my ears can’t take this_

_Yo if you miss breakfast we’re going to order takeout and invade your apartment again_

Qrow smiled. That sounded like Ruby’s threat. The voicemails were equally loud and incomprehensible, but he’d see them soon enough. He pocketed the phone and bent down to pick up his keys, wallet and—

A scrap of note paper with a number on it.

Completely against his wishes, Qrow’s body fully clenched for a moment at the memory. He’d actually said words, had actually shaken Clover’s hand, and Clover had _slipped him a note with his number._

This time when he came back to his senses, he had added the number in his contacts as “Clover Ebi” with no other information. So. Now he had Clover’s number.

What the fuck was he supposed to do with that?

It was the sort of thing that might have been fun to imagine and laugh at, but now that it was actually staring him in the face he didn’t know what to do with it. Actually that wasn’t quite true, Qrow had several ideas, all of them immediately dismissed as spectacularly bad.

His phone buzzed again, a notification from Ruby. _ARE YOU ON YOUR WAY YET?_

Qrow sighed. _Yeah gimme a minute_

His phone lit up immediately with a call from Ruby. Qrow dragged a hand down his face. No escaping it now. He put the phone down on the only table he had and put her on speaker while he got dressed the rest of the way.

His niece’s voice, tinny and harsh as the speakers tried to accommodate her volume, immediately filled the apartment. _“Uncle Qrow that was amazing you have to come talk about it!”_

Qrow huffed a laugh. “I know kid, I really am on my way, just tired. They shoot a lot harder than you and Yang.” He pulled a shirt that looked clean out of a pile that looked clean-ish and started buttoning it.

_“What!? Come say that to my face!”_ Oh good. He was on speaker on the other end as well.

_“Tell Coach Qrow to hoof it! We ordered coffee and everything!”_ That would be Nora. Qrow looked at the time. He wasn’t _that_ late. Half an hour, tops. He took a quick look in the mirror and cursed. Half of his hair was pointed in reasonable directions, the other half was flat against his skull where he’d slept on it. He grabbed some paste out of a tin that smelled like the forest—a gift from Taiyang—and went to work.

There was more clamoring on the other end of the line, then it went quiet. “Hey, Uncle Qrow?” Ruby this time, just Ruby. “You’re really on your way, right? Everyone really wants to hear about what it was like!”

“Really,” Qrow answered. His hair was mostly symmetrical, respectable even. He grabbed his phone, slipped into some shoes, and grabbed his keys. “I’m on my way out the door right now.”

“Yay! Okay, see you soon!” and the line closed.

It was a quick bus ride to the kids’ favorite breakfast spot, an obnoxiously modern place trying to look like an old diner, but the prices were good and the coffee was bottomless, so Qrow couldn’t complain that much. They had become regulars there, and scored a huge rounded corner booth at the back of the restaurant every time they came.

Despite that, when he came through the door he immediately heard and saw Ruby, waving her arms. “Uncle Qrow! Over here!”

“We’re always in the same place,” he muttered, but smiled fondly and walked over. The kids, all eight of them, scooted around the corner clockwise to make room for him on the edge, nearly resulting in Jaune being ejected from the other end. But Pyrrha pushed back just a touch, to make sure he still had a seat.

There was an immediate cup of coffee poured for him, and a plate of toast appeared in front of him. “You want to hear about it that bad?” Qrow quirked an eyebrow.

“Come _on,_ what was it like to kick Atlas’ ass?” Yang demanded through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Qrow took a deliberately long sip of coffee. “I honestly don’t remember most of it. Kinda blacked out on the adrenaline, I guess.”

Yang groaned. “That can’t be all! What about that slapshot from Ederne from point? She’s dented helmets with those!”

“Yeah but it came dead-on. And that’s what the pads are for,” Qrow said. But his hand came up under the table to prod gently at his stomach, where there was a bit of light bruising from what he now remembered as yes, a particularly lethal shot from Elm Ederne.

“The split saves were particularly impressive,” Pyrrha added. “They kept putting them on the highlight reels during the postgame. Not every goalie in the RHL can do those.”

“Oh, those were the _best,”_ Yang grinned. “They showed the slo-mo for those with shots from the Atlas bench. Their faces were priceless.”

It turned out not to be a problem that Qrow barely remembered the game, as it was told back to him in parts by the rest of the team. The conversation barely required his input, and his thoughts drifted back to the new number in his phone.

He opened a message and tried to surreptitiously type out a draft. _Hey_

“Who are you texting?”

Weiss had caught him. He knew he shouldn’t have let anyone related to Winter on the team.

Everyone stared, and then spoke all at once.

“Uncle Qrow _are you on a group text—”_

“Ask Goodwitch how she learned that shot!”

“Will they come to our games?”

“If you join the RHL can you still coach us—”

“I’m _not_ in a group text with the Hunters,” Qrow sighed, exasperated. “And I’m not going to be in the RHL.”

The questions kept coming, until he finally caved. “Fine, fine! Someone gave me their number, after the game.”

This was Qrow’s worst idea so far.

“Who was it? Holy shit was it Ozpin _are you texting Ozpin—”_

“It’s _not a Hunter,”_ Qrow said firmly, trying to throw them off but also trying not to lie. Ruby could just _tell,_ every time. “Just a fan, or something. Said the saves were good.”

“Ooooooh,” they said in unison, loud enough to turn heads at other tables.

“Don’t do that, they’ll kick us out,” Weiss said.

“It’s your fault they’re doing this anyway,” Qrow shot back, raising his coffee mug in a mock toast.

Nora scoffed. “We’re regulars, they can’t kick us out.”

“That’s not what ‘regulars’ means,” Ren said from beside her. And then the table was off again, deciding what behavior, if any, would cause them to be removed from the restaurant.

The rest of the meal went smoothly, in part because Qrow kept his phone firmly in his pocket, and let conversation flow around him. He tried to pay the bill, and as always Blake managed to get it before him and the kids worked it out between them. “Coach doesn’t pay,” they sang at him, and Qrow despised that after all these breakfasts it still warmed his heart when they did it.

“You have to let me pay for my own food eventually.”

“Psh, you drink bottomless coffee and have a side of toast, you barely count,” Weiss said, having gathered the cash from everyone and put the entire tab on her card. It had something to do with rewards points, but Qrow had never pried. So long as he didn’t have to do any mental math, he was happy to let at least that part go to someone else. “And I know what the coaching job pays.”

Qrow scowled. He was about to argue, but a camera flash caught his eye.

Across the diner, Clover Ebi was taking a photo with a fan.

This was too much. “Fine, but next time I’m buying,” he said, as was basically tradition at this point, and stood up to leave, with the kids following after or jumping ahead. He allowed himself to be borne out on the tide, but chanced a look back at the other table.

Clover was watching him leave. As soon as he caught Qrow’s eyes, he winked again.

Qrow managed not to white out this time, but it was a close thing.

He said his goodbyes and took another bus home, staring at his phone screen the entire time. Finally, just before he took the stairs up to his apartment, he sent it.

_Didn’t know RHLers came down to random diners_

As he made his slow way up the stairs, leaning on the railing, his phone buzzed and nearly made him trip and fall right back down. Qrow took it out with a shaking hand on the landing.

_Color me surprised if any hockey player in Remnant hasn’t heard of a place that lets you add pancakes to a stack indefinitely_

Qrow snorted. Another text message followed the first.

_Was that your team?_

_Kinda,_ Qrow replied. _I coach in the local league. The core group likes to go to breakfast_

Another immediate response. _Coaching_ and _playing! Impressive._

Qrow felt compelled to keep typing. _Not by half. I don’t play in another league or anything. Vale isn’t a hockey town, there’s just the one league for teens and up, and we run out of goalies_

This time, Qrow had the time to open his apartment door before the next buzz.

_So what you’re telling me is you played almost an entire period of RHL hockey, having done nothing but play backup goalie to a junior league team?_

_You haven’t seen Yang’s slapshot,_ Qrow typed back, before kicking off his shoes and flopping bonelessly onto the couch. The food and conversation had worn him out again, he could probably use the nap if he wanted to get any use out of his weekend before Monday.

_If it’s got you in that kind of shape, Elm better watch her back_

Qrow froze. With one thumb he rapidly scrolled the conversation, and reality reasserted itself again to remind him that the person on the other end of the texts was a professional hockey player, an amazing center, and an all-around handsome man that he had mortifyingly had half a conversation with the previous night.

What the hell was going on?

Qrow ran his fingers through his hair and gave it a quick tug in frustration. It had been too long. Was this Clover just trying to make friends? He surely had more interesting people to talk to. Qrow’s face heated up as he considered a second option. He’d heard stories of hockey players showing up on local dating apps when they were at away games. Was Clover looking for a quick fuck?

Actually, wait a minute. _Shouldn’t you be on a plane back to Atlas?_

_Major storm in Atlas right now,_ Clover explained. _They’re diverting planes for the rest of the day, so we’re on standby. No earlier than this evening. Got any plans?_

Qrow was no longer tired. He was, in fact, wide awake, and in full control of his mental faculties and absolutely, in no way prepared for this.

There was no getting out of this intact. Either Clover wanted to hook up, and Qrow would be terrible at that, or Clover wanted to be friends, and Qrow would be terrible at _that._ Or, a delightful third option, Qrow could _turn down Clover Ebi,_ and forever hate himself for it.

Clover could be an awful person, some part of Qrow’s mind pointed out, and Qrow nearly considered it. Public and private persona could be pretty different, so maybe, even though Clover was always the media darling and actively volunteered at local Atlas charities and had won the award for “Players’ Favorite Player” _multiple times,_ just maybe all those people were wrong and deep down Clover was rotten to the core.

Qrow could barely think it without laughing. Clover was probably a peach, and that was the worst part.

He still had to respond. What did people do in Vale? Coffee? They both just had coffee. At least Qrow did. Did Clover drink coffee? Didn’t matter, coffee was out.

What did Vale have that Atlas didn’t? Unfrozen dirt, for one. Maybe…

_There’s a big park near Beacon with some walking paths. Not as many people, if you’re rather not get swarmed for photos again_

Another quick response. _Perfect. I could use some fresh air before the flight. Give me an hour to wrap up and I’ll meet you there?_

He could get there in about 30 minutes. _Sure._

What had he just agreed to?

None of this made any sense.

His phone buzzed again, and Qrow was irritated to realize that he was actually _disappointed_ that it was Taiyang calling from Patch’s landline and not Clover texting again.

Qrow answered the call. “Hey Tai.”

“Qrow! Ruby said breakfast just wrapped up, they told me all the details. How was it?”

“I keep telling everyone,” Qrow said, slowly sliding towards the front edge of the couch. It had stopped being comfortable up here. “It’s like any other game. You know you’re there in the moment, but after—” he clicked his tongue. “Nothing.”

Tai laughed, and Qrow’s heart ached. He missed having Tai nearby. Maybe after this season he’d visit again. “They got a few close-ups of you in the mask, it looked like you were having a good time. You had the murder eyes.”

Qrow snorted. “Did not.” He swung his upper body until his shoulders hung off the couch.

“You did! No wonder they couldn’t get a shot past you, they were all too _scared.”_ Even without video, Qrow could see Tai wiggling his fingers at that. “But really, how are you doing?”

“Fine. Leg’s a little sore but I’ll manage. Been a while since I’ve played like that.” Qrow swung his right leg up and let it hang towards his head in an impromptu stretch. As part of the motion, he braced his left leg up on the wall so he was completely upside-down on the couch, and his head connected softly with the carpeted floor. “Team breakfast was manageable.”

Tai asked after Yang and Ruby, and Qrow obliged him and gave him the details on their games and their studies, knowing full well that both girls called him more frequently than Qrow did. Half an hour later, Qrow had migrated to lying full on the floor, and his phone buzzed again.

_Heading over. Looks like there’s some sort of gazebo on the southwest corner? We could meet there._

“Shit,” Qrow muttered. “Listen, Tai, I can call you back tomorrow, I gotta go—” Go what? On a date? Even if it were, he wasn’t ready to tell Tai that. “—talk about ice time with someone.” Technically could be true.

“Ah, as always. Think you might be able to get game times before ten at night?”

“If we’re lucky.” They were never lucky, but it was always nice to hope. “See you later, Tai.”

“Take care, Qrow.”

Qrow ended the call and stared at Clover’s text. This was really happening. He was, at the very least, about to go _hang out_ with Clover. He scrambled to his feet and went to his bathroom mirror. Did he look alright? Should he change shirts? No, he realized, he absolutely could not do that, Clover had already seen him today. Qrow pulled on his shirt tails, trying to flatten out the wrinkles. It would have to do.

_Gazebo’s fine. See you in a bit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A “shut out” means no goals scored against, so if you “shut out” a team, they did not score against you. Good job!  
> \- The Player’s Favorite Player is the [Ted Lindsay Award](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ted_Lindsay_Award). It may have a real in-universe name but Qrow just thinks of it as the PFP because he honestly only cares a little.  
> \- I have a very strong headcanon that Qrow, if given the opportunity to laze a bit, becomes approximately boneless, and whatever the original starting seated position will end up laying on the floor because it’s “more comfortable” despite it absolutely destroying his back the following day.  
> \- “Ice time” is a shorthand for “reserving time to play hockey at a rink.” Rinks are pretty specialized buildings, so it’s often hard to find time amongst public skating reservations, figure skating teams, and hockey teams. Also, everyone is grumpy at everyone else because we think every other person using the ice ruins it (hockey scratches up the ice, figure skating leaves big divots)  
> \- This is the biggest “write what you know” I have ever written, holy shit


	3. Not a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow is not going on a date, he's going to go meet up with someone in the park with no expectations because if it were a date he'd have to be nervous about it.

Qrow’s bus was late, because of course it was.

He nearly ran out the door when it arrived at the park, and then skidded to a stop on the grass.

Clover was waiting, exactly where he said he would be.

Qrow hadn’t noticed at the diner, but Clover was dressed casually, as if he were anyone enjoying a day out. No Aces gear, just a plain red shirt and blue jeans. Clover looked up and smiled at him, and Qrow’s stomach flipped.

“Thanks for coming.” Clover’s smile was small but warm as he walked over. “It’s always good to see a new place with a local.”

“If I were a local I would have known that bus always runs late,” Qrow’s mouth said entirely without his input.

Clover exhaled in a short laugh. “More local than me. You coach here, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Been here since college. Wanna walk?”

“Sure.” Clover turned to follow him as Qrow headed for his favorite path, through one of the more wooded areas. “Beacon University?”

Qrow raised an eyebrow. “You look me up or something?”

“Your helmet, during the game,” Clover explained.

Oh. Right. “I asked the artist on my first helmet to do the same to my second, when the first broke. Forgot to ask them to remove the school name. Now, it’s just tradition. I’m not exactly a college student anymore.”

“Representing your old school in the RHL, pretty good endorsement of them. They pay you for that?”

Qrow laughed, surprising himself. Talking to Clover didn’t feel like what he expected. He was expecting to be more starstruck up close. But this was...nothing. They were talking about nothing, and it was nice. “Nah, but they do uh, pay me. I coach there.”

“But you don’t goalie for them?”

“Huh? Oh, not the hockey team, too much politics.” Qrow shook his head. He’d had more than his share of that as a student. “Club gymnastics.”

“Ah,” Clover said brightly. “That explains the split saves a bit more.”

“It’s good cross-training,” Qrow shrugged. “But you do have to subject yourself to always being shown up by teenagers. A freshman came in this year with a floor routine I thought was literally impossible. I think she placed at the Vytal Festival last year.”

Clover hummed. “Now that would be something. If the trainers cleared us to cross-train in gymnastics, the team would be all over it. But I think that might be the one thing as likely to concuss us as hockey.”

“There’s lower-impact stuff you can do, and if you’re not too reckless, it’s not so bad. You just need a good spotter.”

“I’ll be sure to recommend you, then, when I propose it.”

Qrow nearly tripped on nothing. “That’s uh, I’m really not—”

“Easy. Just a joke,” Clover was smiling again. “If you hated college politics, you’d hate being on an RHL payroll even more. It’s something they don’t tell you while you're training.”

They transitioned into talking more about hockey, after that. Clover’s experiences growing up groomed to be in the RHL weren’t surprising, but certainly different. He was from Atlas originally, and Atlas was a hockey city through and through. Qrow remembered watching the news when Clover was drafted to the Aces, how excited the whole city was for a hometown hero.

Qrow, by contrast, skirted very carefully around his own history. He could talk about being at Beacon, a bit, but slid smoothly from graduation to working at the school years later, without any of the intervening time. And then of course, he could talk for days about the kids’ team. Clover either didn’t notice or didn’t mind.

“I’m still surprised that you never went pro,” Clover was saying. “You really did look right at home in the net yesterday.”

“Lucky blocks. And even if I had that kind of talent, I started way too late. A lot of people want to play in the RHL, and every team only needs a goalie and a backup. The numbers just don’t add up.”

“Qrow.” Clover had stopped to turn and face him. “Half the goalies in the league couldn’t have made some of those saves. I’ve made those shots against them. Do you think _I’m_ just lucky?”

“You do wear number seven,” Qrow mumbled.

Clover’s face flickered to frustration for a moment before relaxing into amusement. “It’s gotten me this far, and the Aces will probably let me keep it even if we get someone else who wants it.”

Qrow snorted. “Buddy, they’ll probably _retire_ it after you.”

“Clover,” said Clover.

“What?”

“My name is Clover.”

Qrow rolled his eyes, but it was fond. “Alright, _Clover,_ they’re gonna retire your jersey, you don’t have to get smug about it. Happy now?”

Clover was doing it again, he was smiling, but it wasn’t some big media-friendly smile, it was small and personal, like he was smiling at Qrow, and _only_ at Qrow. He was looking at Qrow like smiling at him was _the whole point,_ and Qrow didn’t understand it at all. It was torturous, and it was going to hurt beyond hurt to find out, but he had to know.

“Clover,” Qrow said again. His hands were shaking.

“Yeah, Qrow?”

“What is...this?” Qrow gestured between them.

Clover looked at him like he’d grown wings. “...This?”

“Like,” Qrow sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Are we friends right now, or is this some kind of hook-up?”

Clover shrugged. “It wasn’t really supposed to be either of those things.”

“Oh.” Qrow felt himself falling into a familiar despair, and locked it away before it could go any further. It yawned behind those barriers, just waiting for him, as always, but he could do this. He could hold it together until he got home. “Yeah, alright.”

“I was hoping it could be a date.”

Qrow just stared. Holding it together, he had done before, but this? This was different. It was downright hopeful, and it terrified him.

Clover seemed to take his silence as an invitation to keep going. “You can kind of get a feeling for people playing against them, you know? You had this look about you, like you didn’t give a damn who we were, you weren’t going to lose that game. I really liked that. And we don’t date within the Aces, and there’s not much chance to meet anyone else, so,” he shrugged again and oh, Qrow saw it now, the way Clover was no longer looking directly at him, the hunch of his shoulders. Clover was nervous, too. “I took a chance. And you texted back. I thought we could just see where this goes.”

Qrow could feel every beat of his heart against his chest, as time stretched out between them. He had to say something. He was supposed to say something.

He hadn’t expected this. But now, finally faced with the possibility, he couldn’t imagine not wanting it. Not at least wanting to _try._

Clover’s phone buzzed.

“Sorry.” Clover slid it halfway out of his pocket to check the screen. “Looks like our flight got cleared. I have to go but, think about it? I’d like to stay in touch, if you want to.”

Say something. _Anything._ “Yeah. Sure.”

It came out wrong, Qrow knew it. Clover looked away, his face fell and oh no, Qrow couldn’t have that.

“Wait,” Qrow said, and quickly stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek. “For, uh, luck. You’re playing the Lions tomorrow.”

Clover’s mouth went slack, his eyes wide in surprise and yes, Qrow could work with this. He smirked back and gave a wink of his own. When Clover smiled this time, there were wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter brought to you by Marianas Trench, which soothes me and they are in fact the reason for the name of this fic.  
> \- Replace your helmets! They do expire due to wear and tear! Qrow is in his late thirties, if he’d been playing since graduating at 22ish, he’s probably been through at least two helmets? They have expiration dates on them in my experience.  
> \- There's a mention here of goalie mental health, and there was a truly excellent Athletic article about it that I can no longer find but the pressure on goalies since it's such a specific position is _intense_  
>  \- My headcanon of Qrow now is that he either has the exact sassy thing to say or can think of absolutely nothing to say there is no in-between I guess  
> \- Qrow’s jobs might not make sense fiscally and I’m sorry about that, I am not in the business of sport coaching. I like to think he spends a lot of time handling the coaching/organizing of the hockey league, and then spends a smaller chunk of time helping undergrads nail forward handsprings, because Qrow is a noodle boy with springs for bones and would be great at it I think. Part of the reason I decided he was a goalie was because some of them can do the splits and if I had to pick one (1) RWBY who could do the splits who isn't Tyrian it would be Qrow _without question._


	4. Hat Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow and Clover get to know each other. Qrow's kids get nosy.

Clover scored three goals against the Lions the next day, because of course he did.

Qrow had never watched a more nerve-wracking game, and that included the time he fucked up his knee and had to watch his backup at Beacon try and rescue a horrifying 0-5 game against Haven. It hadn’t gone well. Nothing, in Qrow’s estimation, ever really went well when you hoped it did.

Except, apparently, when you tried to bestow good fortune on Clover Ebi.

Qrow knew how superstitious hockey players could be, so before he could think too hard about it, he fired off a text for Clover to read after the game.  _ I’m not flying out to Atlas before every game for you. _

Later:  _ Guess I’ll just have to come to Vale for all my good luck ;) _

Qrow couldn’t stop thinking about that wink for a solid two hours.

He had to talk to someone about this, except he wanted to talk to just one person about this, but with everyone he knew being the way they were, if he talked to any one of them, they’d all know in less than a day. No, he didn’t want to make that decision.

He didn’t need to worry. The next day the kids made it for him.

“So how’s it going with your  _ fan, _ Coach Qrow?” Nora shouted at him during warmups.

Qrow longed to be on the ice that night, where Nora would have far less time to talk to him. But Oscar was able to make it tonight and was warming up in goal. Qrow, on the other hand, was standing behind the bench in a black puffer jacket and an extremely colorful beanie with an enormous pom pom on top that he’d gotten as a birthday gift once. It had some sort of shiny ribbon threaded through it so it  _ glittered, _ but it was the warmest hat he owned, so Qrow tolerated it.

“I don’t have fans,” Qrow grumbled, hands in his pockets.

Nora grunted and slapped a puck into the wall next to the net so hard that Oscar jumped. “Sure you do! The one you texted at breakfast!”

“Watch your knees,” Qrow cautioned instead. Nora stuck her tongue out at him.

After the game started, it only got worse. Yang and Ruby’s line came in for a shift change, careening over the boards and onto the bench. “So,” Yang said without missing a beat. “Have you been on a date yet?”

“You’re not backchecking.”

“And  _ you’re  _ avoiding the question.”

“Yes.”

“So you  _ have _ gone on a date?”

“What? No!”

“That’s a lie,” Ruby sang. Qrow just scowled, and refused to talk until they were back on the ice. Yang smacked his hat’s pom pom on her way out.

A minute later, they were back. “So, you gonna see them again?”

“You’re just gonna keep asking, aren’t you?”

“Yup!”

Qrow hunched further into his coat. “Win the game, and I’ll tell you.”

“Psh, easy. Hey!” Yang leaned over to yell down the bench. “If we win Coach Qrow will tell us about his date!”

“You got it!” Nora shouted back from the defensive side. Blake nodded, hell, even Ren had a bit of a smile. Qrow couldn’t help but smile as well when he saw the next line change launch itself onto the ice. They were horrible gossips, all of them, but fundamentally good kids. Sort-of kids. College students were still kids to Qrow, anyway.

Through the sheer power of nosiness they won, and Qrow couldn’t even find it in him to be mad. They had played extremely well, the lines had unified under a common goal and looked good. Even Oscar, fresh to playing goalie this year, had started getting comfortable telling his defense where to be. They all started packing up to leave, and Qrow almost thought that they’d forgotten.

“Sooooo,” Ruby started.

“Hm?” Qrow raised an eyebrow.

“Your  _ date!” _ Nora shouted. “How’d it go!?”

“Fine.”

“Got another one lined up?” Yang asked, pulling her day-to-day prosthetic out of the bag to swap for her hockey gear.

“Not yet.”

Yang narrowed her eyes. “Gonna answer anything with more than a few syllables?”

Qrow couldn’t help smiling a little. “Maybe.”

Yang threw her elbow pad at him. Qrow caught it and tossed it back underhand.

“Do you like them?” Blake asked, completely in earnest.

Qrow thought about it. “Pretty early, but...yeah. I think I do.”

“So when do we get to meet them?” Ruby was practically bouncing.

Qrow snorted. “It’s one date, kiddo. And he’s pretty busy with work. It’ll be a while, if at all.”

“But you’ll bring him to a game, right?”

“Bring him to breakfast!” Nora shouted. “We can show him how to order off the secret menu.”

_ He actually knows the place, already.  _ “I’m not subjecting him to that,” Qrow said instead.

“What’s his name?”

Everyone stopped to look at Oscar. He didn’t speak up much, which Qrow had hoped would change over time, but now he was beginning to reconsider. That was the most dangerous question yet.

“Oh no.” Qrow held up his hands. “I’m not telling you that. You’ll look up every ‘Jeff’ in Vale.”

“‘Jeff’ with a ‘J’ or Geoff with a ‘G?’”

Qrow glared at Ruby. “His name isn’t Jeff.”

“Narrows it down a little,” Yang said, considering. “So we’re looking for a guy, whose name isn’t Jeff.”

Qrow managed to escape the night without giving up any more personal information and only a little bit more good-natured, “go get ‘em, coach!” on the way out. He texted Clover when he made it back to the safety of his apartment. Atlas was ahead a few hours, so it was beyond too late to be up, but he should get it the next morning.

_ The kids bet me that if they won their game, I had to tell them about my date. So far all they’ve got is that you’re not named jeff _

Seven hours later, he woke up to two new texts.

_ Well, that’s a start. It’ll still take them a while to work through all the names. _

_ Do you want to tell them? _

_ Nah,  _ Qrow texted back while his coffee steeped.  _ Gotta keep an air of mystery _

_ I’d prefer that too,  _ Clover replied.  _ Too much media. _

That made sense. Players’ personal lives tended to be public news. Atlas seemed to keep a good handle on it, because Qrow had never heard of any significant others on the Aces. Clover probably wanted to keep his private life private. Which...now could include Qrow.

He still wasn’t used to thinking about it like that.

Shit, that meant a dinner date out probably wouldn’t work. Clover was very noticeable.  _ In that case, is a second date of takeout at my place too forward? _

_ No, that’s perfect,  _ Clover wrote back after a bit.  _ I’ll have to beg forgiveness from the nutritionist, but it’s worth it. We’re back in Vale in a few weeks. _

_ I bet I can find something worth breaking your diet for.  _ Qrow hummed to himself.  _ How do you feel about spicy _

_ I’m Atlesian. _

Qrow laughed out loud in his empty apartment, and went to pour his coffee. Clover kept texting.

_ But I’m willing to try if there’s also some non-spicy options for when I’m at my limit. _

_ I’ll see what Vale has to offer. _ Then, _ What are you up to today _

Clover sent him a picture of the Atlas practice rink.  _ Same old, same old. _

Qrow didn’t  _ mean _ to text Clover every day. Really. He’d been curious what a day in Clover’s life was like, so he asked. And Clover obliged. And suddenly Qrow ended up texting Clover most days. Clover would talk about training or the latest game, and ask Qrow about his day. Qrow talked about work. How they had to move games again because the figure skating team needed more time before regionals. How at the gym, one of the students had landed her first roundoff back handspring layout.

Of course, that made Clover ask what that was. And then, once Qrow had explained it, Clover asked if  _ he  _ could do one, which was how he ended up dressed to tumble one day at gymnastics, swearing the gymnasts to secrecy as to  _ why _ he needed them to take a video of him, and sending it over.

_ Hot damn, _ was all Clover had to say for a little while. Qrow had to work to not keep smiling through hockey practice, and even so, Ruby was suspicious.

But his favorite part by far was that if they were still talking by the end of the day, Clover would wish him a good night. It was often right before a night game or practices, and it warmed him as much as it tied a little knot of worry into his stomach. It was easy, too easy to talk with Clover. Was it going well? Was there some elaborate set up he was missing?

He’d worry and let himself be happy in turns, until he fell asleep thinking about how the hell you convinced a pro athlete that you were worth his time. And then he’d wake up, and he’d have a text from Clover again, and it would be harder to doubt himself.

Maybe it would be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- A hat trick is three goals. A “Gordie Howe” hat trick, because I think it’s funny, is a goal, an assist (2nd or 3rd last person to touch the puck before a goal), and a fight.  
> \- I’ve found via casual viewing that a lot of hockey players in the NHL, and probably a lot of sports-persons, are very superstitious, and have carried that over to fic, because it’s joyful to me  
> \- “Over the boards:” so hockey has a bench next to the ice surrounded by a smallish wall. There are doors in and out, which are used, but also some people just kinda vault over. Yang and Ruby absolutely seem like people who would not use doors if given the option.  
> \- Backchecking is when you switch from offense to defense, and people who like to play offense hate doing it. I am convinced Yang would be great at hockey and horrible at backchecking.  
> \- Yang has a prosthetic arm! [There is a player who played pro hockey with one,](https://bleacherreport.com/articles/2570281-meet-scott-stafford-the-1-handed-pro-hockey-player-living-out-his-dream) and I think that’s rad.  
> \- Atlas is cold and no spicy peppers naturally grow there, I have decided. It’s also three hours ahead of Vale, for arbitrary reasons.


	5. Definitely a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow invites Clover over for dinner.

Qrow was nervous.

It was less about the…the  _ date, _ Qrow realized. It was more that he had somehow tricked himself into offering to have a date  _ at his apartment. _ Clover was flying in that afternoon, and Qrow had spent the entire morning looking around at his apartment and realizing that it had been co-opted by the hockey team without him noticing.

They came by on occasion for breakfast if the diner was particularly busy, or more recently just to sprawl on his couch and various squashy chairs because his apartment had air conditioning and the dorms did not. He didn’t mind, because it made the place feel more lived in. He liked company when he knew who they were. What he somehow hadn’t noticed was that over the years, little things he agreed to when they came by had turned into most of his decor. Photos of the team had been framed and put up near photos he already had of Ruby and Yang. Several potted plants he had intended to make someone take back next time they visited had now been under his care for months. Most of them hadn’t even died yet, because the kids had chosen succulents and hardy indoor plants that even he couldn’t kill. There was a fleece Beacon University blanket that he didn’t remember buying thrown over the couch, and in his kitchen alongside his minimal dishes there was now a full shelf of horrible sugary snacks that could only be Nora’s doing.

He spent ten minutes not getting emotional about it, and then another five just sitting on the couch staring at the photo wall and letting it out. He was still sniffling slightly when he managed to take a picture and send it to Taiyang.

_ Your girls did all this. I only just really noticed. _

Taiyang responded a half hour later, while Qrow was doing a quick cleaning, removing the one dead plant from its pot and sweeping the bathroom.  _ They’re good kids. You take care of them out there. _

Qrow chuckled.  _ Seems like it’s the other way around, but sure _

_ It can be both, buddy. _

“Yeah,” Qrow said to himself. “I guess it can.”

One load of laundry later, he was down to the final two shirts he thought might be reasonable for when Clover came over. He was also down to his last two options for how to choose. He could flip a coin, that was easy and judgement-free. It was also completely random and wouldn’t give good advice.

Qrow sighed. Option two, then.

_ Yang. I am about to ask you something in the strictest confidence. Do not disappoint me _

_ HOLY SHIT are you on a date right now what do you need Ruby and I support u _

Qrow dragged his hand down his face.  _ Strictest. Confidence. _

_ Right right right ok, what do you need _

_ Also Ruby’s here,  _ Yang added.

Qrow gave up on preserving his dignity and sent a picture of the two shirts.  _ Red or blue? _

Instantly:  _ Red but roll up the sleeves. Do you not own t-shirts _

_ They’re all for tumbling, _ Qrow wrote back.  _ Not exactly date material _

_ A-HA so you admit it! It is a date! Where you going? _

Qrow didn’t dignify that with a response and switched over to texting Clover, and sent him a link for his favorite takeout.  _ Let me know when your flight lands if this works for you _

_ We have internet on the flight, Qrow,  _ came Clover’s response a few minutes later.  _ Looks good! I’m easy, feel free to pick your favorites. ETA 4:17, but then we need to debrief. Probably closer to six? _

Qrow sent back a thumbs up, and settled in to have a perfectly normal day leading up to six p.m.

Hours later, having utterly failed at that and spent the time alternately browsing his phone, trying on both shirts again, deliberately ignoring his nieces’ texts, walking to the supermarket and back to pick up actual napkins to have on his one table, and cursing at his phone when the delivery order was going to be late, there was a knock on his door.

“So, dinner got delayed, we’re still waiting on—” Qrow looked up.

Clover was wearing a suit.

On some deeper level, that made sense to Qrow. The Aces’ dress code was to wear suits when they were going to be in public, so they probably had to wear them to the hotel that day.

However, his brain was going to get back to that thought later, because there was a difference in seeing an article with a picture of Clover in his game day suit, and having Clover in his game day suit on Qrow’s doorstep.

“Sorry for being overdressed, I unpacked at the hotel and realized I didn’t have—Qrow? You alright?”

_ Shit he’d been staring. _ Qrow cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine, it’s fine—”  _ You’re fine. _ “—it looks good on you, I mean. Come in, I can, uh, put the jacket in my closet? So it doesn’t wrinkle?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Clover rolled his shoulders to shrug out of the jacket with an effortless grace that had Qrow dangerously close to losing his entire train of thought.

_ This is the Clover you’ve been texting, _ he told himself as he shuffled into his room to stash the jacket on a hanger. He needed to get a coat rack.  _ It’s the same person you’ve been talking to for weeks. You make jokes. You snark. _

_ Easy. Comfortable. Same person. Same Clover. _

When he came back into the living room Clover was rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt and had taken off his tie. Qrow wondered how he lost control of the situation this fast.

“You mentioned dinner was still on it’s way?” Clover said, looking up from his wrists.

“Um,” Qrow said eloquently.

And then Clover smiled, one corner of his mouth pulled a bit higher than the other, like he was trying not to grin.

_ Oh, Clover, you absolute  _ ass, Qrow thought, somewhere between annoyed and amused. Clover  _ meant _ to come here in a suit, he knew what he looked like. And just like that, Qrow had an angle to grab onto.

Now it was  _ fun. _

“Yeah,” Qrow drawled, and slid into the chair on the far side of the table, lounging as best he could in the straight-backed chair. He drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table, letting his jewelry catch the light. “Pretty popular place, got backed up a little more than I thought it would. Ten, fifteen minutes now. Why?” Qrow raised an eyebrow. “Got anywhere to be?”

Clover pulled out the chair across from Qrow for himself and put both forearms on the table. “Nowhere but here.”

“Bold of you to wear white when we’re getting takeout. Can’t say I mind, but that’s a pretty confident move.”

“I’m a pretty, confident person.” Clover winked.

Qrow snorted, but smiled back. It was horribly cheesy, yet somehow Clover made it almost endearing. “Oh,” Qrow stood up again and headed for the kitchen. He should have offered a drink, or something. What did he have? He opened the fridge to investigate. “Can I get you anything? I have uh, water and…‘Shock Blast.’”

“Local beer?”

“No. I mean—” Qrow tried not to sigh. He forgot he’d have to get into this at some point. “Dry apartment. Don’t drink anymore. It’s a—oh, it’s one of the kids’ energy drinks. Maybe not that.”

“Better not,” Clover agreed. “And good to know. Water would be great, thanks.”

And that was it.  _ Easy. _ Qrow walked back to the table with two glasses of water and a wide-eyed expression.

“How are they doing?”

“What?” Qrow shook his head to try and focus.

“The kids.” Clover nodded over at the picture wall. “Team doing okay?”

“Oh, yeah actually, doing great. Oscar’s learning goal real quick, they barely need me to play anymore,” Qrow laughed. “They’ll love him at Beacon if he goes.”

“Shame, would have liked to see you play again.” Clover smiled, and Qrow was going to start a list of the smiles Clover had. This one was teasing, but there was a fire behind it, something intense that made Qrow want to simultaneously hide and lean in.

He was saved from making the choice by the arrival of dinner, and he wasn’t sure if he was glad for it. But the restaurant  _ was _ his favorite, and he quickly popped all the containers to explain to Clover which curries were the hottest and which were more mild. The smell of all his favorite comfort foods permeated the apartment, and Qrow felt another surge of love for the kids who had redecorated the place. It really felt like home now.

And then he’d look over at Clover, red-faced from a particularly spicy bite of dinner, and he was just…Clover. Not some big shot from the RHL who made more in a year than Qrow would make in a lifetime, not some celebrity. Just Clover, who he’d invited over, and who had said yes.

Qrow imagined Clover at another press conference, talking about the game, and realized he’d never again be able to see it and not think,  _ I have gone on a date with this man. And when we’re not doing that, we’re playing horrible phone games. I have kissed that face and seen his smiles when the cameras are off. _

“Do I have something on my face?” Clover asked.

Qrow shook his head. “No just, lost in thought I guess.”

“What about?”

“You’re…not exactly what I expected, Clover.”

Clover froze. “That a good thing?”

“Yes! Oh, yeah that came out bad. It’s just, uh.” Qrow pushed his hair out of his face. “The public face, the one you put on for TV interviews? It’s very…”

“Atlesian?” Clover winced.

“Was going to say ‘hockey robot,’ but that works. I know it’s a big deal in Atlas, I get it. You need to look the part. But here, you’re more…real? And it’s nice.” Qrow quickly backpedaled through his thoughts to find something to pull himself away from that potential emotional nosedive. “Though honestly I was just thinking about how I’d never be able to see you in a press conference again and not think about how bad you are at video games.”

Clover laughed, and Qrow saw the tension ease out of his frame. “Maybe I let you win!”

Qrow shook his head, but he was smiling. “You’re nice, but not  _ that _ nice. And I wouldn’t like you so much if you threw games like that.”

“So you like me.”

Qrow’s heart rate shot through the roof in an instant. He tried to laugh it off. “I’ve been texting you for weeks and now we’re having a date at my apartment. I thought it was a given.”

“It’s nice to hear you say it.” Clover was looking down at his hands, at the food, not quite making eye contact. “I like you too. Talking with you has been…nice.”

_ Clover Ebi likes me. _ Qrow forgot to say anything for a minute, lost in replaying those words over and over in his head. It still didn’t feel quite real. He hadn’t dated in who knows how long, busy with getting his life together and work and the kids and now suddenly, out of absolutely nowhere, a beautiful man with just the right amount of sass was eating takeout with him in his home. And, Qrow thought giddily, not only was that man the biggest name in hockey, but Qrow couldn’t find it in him to give a  _ single shit _ about Clover’s stardom. It was work, and Qrow admired his play, certainly, but it wasn’t about that anymore.

Qrow  _ actually liked him, _ and it was both wonderful and terrifying.

“We, uh.” Qrow cleared his throat. “We should clean up, yeah? I’ll just pop the containers in the fridge.”

Qrow stood up to get started. Clover copied his motion, then closed the distance and kissed Qrow full on the mouth.

It was brief, and all Qrow managed to do was realize his hands should go somewhere before Clover pulled back. “Too much? I—”

Qrow remembered what his hands were for. He wrapped them around Clover’s chest and pulled him back in for a second kiss. Clover’s lips were warm and the sensation sent a jolt down Qrow’s spine, rooting him in place until Clover moved back a fraction to breathe. He was smiling again, and Qrow noticed that up close his eyes were more green than blue, impossibly so, the color deeper than he’d thought possible.

Clover’s arms were wrapped around his, his skin almost unbearably warm and yet Qrow wanted more of it. He thought about his bed, ten feet away, and just as he was imagining inviting Clover into it, he was unhelpfully reminded again that this was  _ Clover Ebi, _ and that texting someone was different than dating someone, and at some point, dating Clover Ebi would have to  _ mean _ something, whether he wanted to or not. Dating Clover Ebi meant Atlas media descending on them. Hell, probably Vale media too, since they knew about him from the EBUG game.

Qrow took a deep breath to steady himself. At some point, maybe it would have to matter. He was going to steadfastly ignore that point until it came crashing towards him. Right now, Clover was wrapped around him, which was exactly where he wanted Clover to be.

“You wanna stay the night, Clover?” Qrow said, low and quiet into the space between them.

Clover winced. “We actually have a curfew. Mostly for the new kids, but I’m supposed to be setting an example.”

“Oh.” Qrow’s face fell.

“But—” Clovers hands slid up over Qrow’s shoulders, down the front of his shirt and over his sides. Qrow shivered at the touch. His breath hitched when Clover’s hands slid even lower, cupping his ass and pulling gently, ever so gently forward. Clover kissed at Qrow’s jaw once, twice, tracing his lips up Qrow’s cheek until he was whispering in Qrow’s ear. “I could stay a bit longer, if you don’t mind.”

Qrow found he didn’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- "Game day suit” is just a suit, it’s dress code and there are probably more rules about it but I like to think that regardless of what the RHL does at large, Atlas absolutely requires the Aces wear suits whenever they’re in public representing the team.  
> \- Hockey-robot-ness is a thing depending on where you’re from? Hopefully on its way out but it’s the idea that players were not allowed to like, have any thoughts that weren’t about hockey, that “shut up and Sport” mentality. It's bad! But I think Atlas would _love_ it.  
> \- There’s a place where it should maybe be “whom” instead of “who” but I am acknowledging that and refusing to do it because it doesn’t feel right


	6. They Gonna Bang in This One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title really says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a smut chapter, both so that it is eminently skippable if this is not your thing, and so it is easily navigated to if it is the only thing in this fic that is your thing, because I know sometimes I’m both of those people. But also, it ended up being _way more talky_ than expected.

Clover’s hands were hot even through Qrow’s clothes, and Qrow wanted to feel them against his skin. He wanted  _ Clover, _ however he could have him, ideally on a bed.

Unfortunately Clover refused to untangle from him even for the short walk from his living room to his bedroom, having apparently decided to take up residence kissing the tender spots on Qrow’s neck that made his knees give out. Frankly, Qrow was actually rather impressed he got them to the bed at all. Someone had even managed to unbutton a few of his shirt buttons and push his shirt a little ways off his shoulders. Clover’s was still buttoned, Qrow noticed, and went to fix it.

“How do you feel about hickeys?” Clover mumbled into his skin. Qrow could  _ feel _ the vibrations as Clover spoke, like they were wired directly into his nerves, lighting him up from within, and fuck, this was just Clover  _ talking. _

Right. He had asked a question. Hickeys. Qrow took in a sharp breath at the prospect of Clover’s marks on him, hard enough to bruise. “Positive,” Qrow gasped. “But low enough to hide or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Clover hummed, another sound that sent a shiver through Qrow’s body, and the next trail of kisses moved down his collarbone and ended with a quick but forceful bite that finally liquefied Qrow’s legs, and he collapsed backwards onto the bed. Clover followed him, supporting his weight on his hands as he continued to kiss and suck and bite at Qrow’s exposed skin.

Qrow would have  _ liked _ to make a joke about  _ someone’s _ clear fixation with his neck, but unfortunately said fixation was really interfering with his ability to form coherent words, much less coherent sentences. He moaned in response to another particularly hard bite and arched up into Clover’s  _ still fully clothed chest, _ how had he not gotten to that yet?

Through sheer force of will he managed to focus his shaking hands long enough to completely unbutton Clover’s shirt and immediately got his hands on every bit of skin he could reach. Clover ran hot, but he shivered as Qrow’s hands ran across his body, and Qrow was suddenly self-conscious of how cold his hands probably were in comparison. He dropped them to his sides. “Sorry, bad cir—”

“Don’t  _ stop,” _ Clover whined, and propped himself on one hand to grab Qrow’s hand with his other, and guide him back to where he was.

Qrow chuckled with more confidence than he really felt. “Might need to get your shirt the rest of the way off for that.”

Clover sat up to do just that, straddling Qrow’s hips and oh, Qrow was going to have that image burned in his mind forever, the feeling of Clover’s weight pushing down on him as he got to see more and more skin. He trailed his hands down Clover’s sides, admired soft skin with muscle just under the surface, a body strengthened for function rather than form. He was beautiful.

“You too, babe. Shirt off.” Clover, gloriously shirtless, had reached down and was tugging at Qrow’s shirt now, somehow completely unbuttoned without any input or notice on Qrow’s part. Qrow sat up as much as he could with Clover in his lap and allowed his shirt to be gracelessly pulled over his arms and tossed aside. While Clover was busy with that, Qrow found himself within kissing distance of Clover’s body and applied himself to mapping every part of it with his lips. Clover trembled under his attentions, and when Qrow looked up he found Clover stifling a smile.

Oh, this was too good. Qrow couldn’t help but grin. “Ticklish, Clover?”

Clover giggled and shook his head.

_ “Liar,” _ Qrow said into Clover’s skin, and moved even more slowly, feather-light touches up and down Clover’s sides until the giggling became fully laughing.

“Alright, I yield! Maybe a little ticklish.”

“Cute,” Qrow muttered, but took pity on him and pressed his hands firmly into Clover’s hips instead.

“Wait—”

Qrow immediately dropped his hands.

“No, that was fine, hang on, just one thing.”

Qrow watched as Clover got up onto his knees on the bed, then effortlessly picked up Qrow’s bottom half and shifted him ninety degrees. “We were on the bed the wrong way, your legs were dangling off,” Clover explained.

Qrow stared. “You stopped to  _ rotate us to be on the bed the right way?” _

“We were already laughing, it seemed like a good time to do something else unsexy.”

“Laughter is sexy, sex is  _ fun,” _ Qrow complained, but he was smiling. “I am more comfortable, though. Now get back here.”

Clover moved to sit on Qrow’s hips again, but he was so careful and  _ slow _ about it that Qrow ended up grabbing him under the shoulders and hauling him forward so they could kiss again.

This time Clover let his weight drop and pressed their bodies flush together. Qrow made a soft, almost desperate noise into Clover’s mouth as Clover ground against him, one hand planted firmly next to his head and the other sliding around his hip. Clover slid his fingers along the edge of Qrow’s waistband with that hand and somehow, despite Clover’s mouth against his, Clover’s body against his,  _ that _ was the touch that shook Qrow to the core. He moaned and arched up into Clover’s hand.

It had been…a long time, since he’d brought anyone home like this. How did you ask someone to fuck you? Qrow knew he’d managed it before, but the specifics eluded him. This shouldn’t be hard, Clover was  _ in his bed already. _ But even trying to form the question included the phrase  _ fuck me, _ and once he started thinking about  _ that _ Qrow really only had the mental space for vividly imagining how Clover would  _ feel, _ how—wait. He’d spaced out.

Clover was trying to talk again.

“As much as—” Clover said breathlessly between kisses. “—I’d like to keep making out—”

“Hm?” Qrow asked before kissing him once more, just to be cheeky.

“Would you just—” Clover laughed and levered himself up on his arms, out of range. “I’m trying to ask if you’d like to have sex, Qrow.”

Not specific enough. Qrow gave up finding better words. “Fuck me,” he gasped.

Clover’s eyes went wide for a moment, then, “Yeah. I can do that. Do you—”

Qrow slipped from under him to fumble one-handed at the side of the bed. “Lube,” he said, throwing the bottle at Clover, who caught it and frankly, it shouldn’t have been that sexy but it  _ was, _ watching the muscles in Clover’s arms flex. Qrow reached down again for—shit.  _ That’s _ what he had been forgetting to buy. “Shit, Clover, I don’t have—”

Clover dropped the lube to the bed and pulled a condom from his pocket. “Got it covered,” he said, smiling at his own damn joke.

“Bet you were a Griffon Scout growing up,” Qrow muttered.

“Made it to Wyvern Scout, actually.”

_ Of course he did _ was Qrow’s last coherent thought before Clover slid his pants off with alarming efficiency and settled between his legs. Qrow’s awareness narrowed to the section of bed he was on and the gorgeous man kissing the inside of his thighs, fingers trailing—

_ “Ngh.” _ Qrow arched as Clover’s finger pressed into him, cooler than Clover’s skin from the lube and fuck, it was so much better when it was someone else’s fingers, pressed further than he could get on his own. Qrow  _ writhed, _ trying to push Clover deeper, but Clover’s other hand burned hot against one hip and pressed down firmly until he was pinned to the bed.

Clover’s mouth was tracing his hip on the other side, close to Qrow’s cock but not touching it, and Qrow was going to go mad like this, perfect little touches that weren’t nearly enough. “Clover, fuck’s  _ sake,” _ he whined, thrusting against Clover’s hands for emphasis.

“Yes, Qrow?” Clover said, too sweetly.

“Like you don’t know,” Qrow huffed.

“Afraid I have no idea.” Clover was grinning now. “Enlighten me?”

Qrow felt his cheeks burning. “I can take more.”

“Is that what you want?”

_ “Yes, _ you absolute—” Qrow cut off with a groan as Clover took the head of his cock in his mouth and thrust two fingers inside him, hard and fast.

It felt  _ incredible. _ Qrow felt his whole body tense, his thighs squeezing Clover’s sides and holding him in place. Clover  _ chuckled _ as he slid his tongue over Qrow’s cock, pressed his fingers steadily into him, his other hand reaching out to grip Qrow’s thigh and push gently. He stopped teasing for a moment to look up and ask, “You’re pretty flexible, right?”

In answer, Qrow pulled his legs up and wrapped them over Clover’s shoulders with ease, even pulling them back just a bit more in the process to prove a point. He’d need a warm up if Clover expected him to go into splits, but this was easy enough, and the look in Clover’s eyes was well worth it. On an impulse, he remembered the cheesy joke Clover had made before dinner. “I’m a pretty, flexible person,” Qrow said, smirking for all he was worth.

That seemed to be Clover’s cue to move up, bending Qrow further in half in the process, so they could kiss again. “Yeah you are,” Clover breathed. “You’re…” he trailed off, kissing every inch of Qrow he could touch, and through it all his fingers kept a steady pace, fucking into Qrow until the stretch was no longer enough, until he wanted  _ faster, harder, _ until he could barely  _ think. _

“So gorgeous,” Clover was saying into his skin, and suddenly Qrow felt exposed, acutely aware of his body in space and how much of it Clover could see. The tension in his muscles took on a different feeling, pleasure but also a sudden burst of stress, of fear.

“Bet you tell that to all the goalies that beat you,” Qrow tried to joke, but his voice sounded bitter even to him.

_ “No.” _ Clover bit down on his chest hard enough to  _ hurt, _ hard enough that Qrow had to stop thinking about how Clover couldn’t mean these things. “Just you. Fuck, do you remember what you said to me when I came to talk to you?”

“Ha, I think I only barely heard your question. ‘Good game,’ or something?”

“I said you stopped some hard shots, you told me you’d ‘had harder.’” 

Oh.  _ That. _ “Yeah, not my best—”

“I  _ couldn’t stop thinking about it,” _ Clover hissed as he kissed up Qrow’s neck, and Qrow’s whole body arched in response to the sudden lust in his voice. “I didn’t know if you meant it the way it sounded—”

“I did,” Qrow said in a rush. “I mean, I didn’t. I didn’t mean to say it. I might have been thinking it.”

Clover smiled into his skin. “Hm. So, do you like harder?”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “I’ve been  _ telling _ you—ah!” Clover had thrust in again and curled his fingers just enough to feel different, impossibly better. “You just—hn—you just like interrupting me!”

“I like the sounds you make when I interrupt you. It’s different.”

“I can’t believe you’re  _ pedantic _ in bed—” Qrow cut off again because really, he couldn’t be expected to hold a conversation like this. Clover was inside him and bent over him, sucking even more marks into his skin and wow, definitely something Qrow would tease him about later when he had the spare brain cells but right now, he needed something else.  _ “Clover.” _

This time, Clover didn’t make him ask. Qrow let out a soft noise as the fingers withdrew so Clover could slide out of the last pieces of his game-day suit. While Clover was occupied, Qrow sat up on the bed and spread his legs out as far as they would go, then rolled his upper body up and over until he could rest his head on his hands, propped up by his elbows on the bed.

Clover looked back halfway through putting on a condom and his jaw dropped. “Oh.”

“Huh.” Qrow pretended to consider. “Guess you’re right. It  _ is _ fun to interrupt.”

“You—” Clover finished what he was doing and  _ launched _ himself at Qrow, face first. Qrow laughed into the kiss and let himself be pushed onto his back again, wrapping his legs around Clover’s bulk. Clover wasn’t much taller but Qrow marvelled at how much  _ more _ of him there was, how Clover’s body completely covered Qrow’s. Clover could probably bench his weight. Fuck, Clover could probably carry him easily.

Qrow got as far as thinking the phrase  _ wall sex _ before Clover was pushing in and his thoughts started to lose traction. The stretch was perfect, enough to  _ feel _ without pushing too far. Qrow felt like it couldn’t get better but then Clover made this  _ noise, _ this beautiful, vulnerable noise, and Qrow’s thoughts completely derailed.

Clover recovered faster. “Qrow, you, hah—you good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, gimme a minute.”

Clover did, holding his weight on his hands while Qrow adjusted, and then flexed a few times just to watch Clover’s expression, and to see if he’d make that noise again. To his delight, Clover did, and buried his face in Qrow’s neck.

“Come on babe,” Qrow said, copying Clover’s pet name from before. He locked his legs behind Clover’s back and pulled him forward. “Show me harder.”

Clover bit down on the meat of his neck again and  _ moved. _

Qrow didn’t shout, but it was a close thing. He had never considered himself loud in bed and yet, every time Clover snapped his hips forward, Qrow’s body let out a truly embarrassing noise that he tried to hide by turning his head until he could cover his mouth with a pillow. 

“That good, huh?” Clover chuckled.

“Ngh.” He hadn’t felt this good in  _ forever. _ It wasn’t just Clover’s cock in him, it was Clover’s weight on him, his warmth, the way he  _ moved, _ sharp and quick and fucking  _ methodical, _ like he was settling in to fuck Qrow for the next hour at this exact pace. It was amazing and it wasn’t quite enough to make him come, and Qrow was going to go mad with it.

“Clover…fuck… _ ” _

“That’s the idea,” Clover said. He was barely breathing hard.

Qrow’s hands clenched in the bedsheets as he tried to push back against Clover. “Gonna need—hngh—more than this Cloves.”

“‘Cloves?’” Clover hummed. “I like it. I get ‘Ebs’ from the team. ‘Cloves’ is better.”

“Don’t—ah—talk about the team while you’re fucking me.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Clover kissed his chest, and  _ did not move any faster. _

It was agony, and Qrow didn’t want it to stop. He felt like he could  _ live, _ right here on the edge of orgasm, for as long as Clover wanted. Slowly, ever so slowly, Clover started to speed up, until Qrow was gasping, until he had to tell him.

“Clover…please…”

“Tell me what you need, Qrow.”

“You…get off on this, don’t you.”

“Only if you do.” Clover said breathlessly.

“I…”  _ Damn it, _ he was blushing, Clover’s cock was inside him and he was  _ blushing _ at the idea of  _ asking _ Clover for what he wanted. He looked away to a corner of the room.  _ “Harder, _ Cloves.”

“Yeah.” Clover thrust again, harder this time. “Yeah, I’ve got you.”

Qrow might have cried out, he didn’t remember. But Clover’s hand was on his cock, stroking hard enough almost to  _ hurt, _ still fucking him with that same relentless drive, and it was more than enough, it was almost too much, and when he came his eyes rolled back until he saw nothing, felt nothing but the points where he was touching Clover and the rush of warmth that permeated his body.

And Clover, like a fucking  _ machine, _ kept going. “Cloves, I…”

“Too much?”

No. Not quite. It was  _ so _ much, the sensation almost unbearable, but it wasn’t too much, yet. “Keep going,” Qrow slurred. “Wanna feel you, come on.”

Clover made another broken-open noise, and moved  _ faster, _ hips stuttering and finally tensing as he pushed deeper into Qrow and let his orgasm overtake him. “Qrow, you’re…”

Qrow held him closer. “Come here, you.”

_ “Ah.” _ Clover buried his face in Qrow’s neck, kissing everywhere he could reach. He hummed happily into Qrow’s skin, and Qrow couldn’t help but agree.

Eventually, Clover’s weight became too much, and Qrow pat him gently on the back. Clover got the message, and slipped slowly out of him. Qrow winced.

Clover, ever a gentleman, cleaned them up, and Qrow wound up with an armful of hockey muscle, Clover’s head pillowed on his chest.

“That was…” Clover sighed. “Good. It was good.”

“Just ‘good?’” Qrow arched an eyebrow. “Need to step up my game, then.”

Clover laughed, a belly laugh that shook his whole body. “Better than good. I’m not all there right now, I’ll write you a poem later.”

“Hm.” Qrow smiled and ran his fingers through Clover’s hair. “Stay a while?”

“I can’t,” Clover tightened his grip on Qrow. “But a little bit, yeah.”

He’d take it. He’d take any time Clover could give. “Good enough, Cloves.”

Clover hummed. “I do really like that nickname.”

“I’ll change your contact in my phone.”

Clover  _ nuzzled _ his chest, and Qrow marvelled at how someone could be so sexy and so  _ adorable, _ all at once.

He chuckled to himself. Guess he’d really gotten lucky, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I am a Caps fan, a team which has historically had superstitions around biting each other. Why yes I am convinced that if we found out werewolves were real, there would be a shitton of them in the national hockey league.  
> \- Also they all call each other babe and I am also a big fan of that  
> \- Other kinks I'm projecting: Loud Tops  
> \- Ahahaha the Griffon Scouts in this universe, I have decided, are the equivalent of the Boy Scouts but a) are for everyone and b) the ranks are all grimm names. I firmly believe Clover would have been the equivalent of an Eagle Scout.


	7. I'll Call You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of talking, and then Qrow takes the team to a game. Yang, a disciple of both Understanding Uncle Qrow and Gay Pining, notices something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting up in some snuggling, for those who skipped last chapter.

Clover stayed another hour before he’d be pushing team curfew, and spent most of it wrapped around Qrow like an octopus.

“So, the Aces really have a mandated bedtime?” Qrow teased.

Clover made a face. “It’s a curfew. And it makes sense. Part of the job description is to be at peak physical performance at all times. That means getting enough sleep.”

“And not having fun.”

“We have enough fun. When we win the cup, there will be plenty of fun.”

Qrow snorted. “I’d like to see that. The Atlas nobility, dressed in their finest petticoats for the parade.”

Clover’s smile was soft. “You should. I could show you around.”

“Sure. I’ll stowaway in your luggage on the team jet.”

“I’d buy you a ticket on the next flight out, you wouldn’t have to.”

Qrow tensed as that line of thinking reminded him of something. “Right. About that. Atlas isn’t really big on the whole spouses-and-partners thing, right?”

“Most of the team prefers to keep their personal lives separate, yeah.” Clover pulled back a bit to look at him and arched an eyebrow. “Why? If you’re asking about tickets, I can still get you into Aces games. Maybe the whole team, but I might need some advance notice.”

Oh. “That would be…amazing, honestly. Nora idolizes Ederne, they’d probably all love to go.”

“Sure, I’ll look into it. Just, probably don’t tell them it was me, just yet.”

“Oh, I don’t plan to. I’m going to make those gossips work for it.”

“Do you think they’ll find out?” Clover asked. He sounded uneasy.

Qrow sighed. He hadn’t been asking about tickets, but that pretty much answered his actual question. Clover really, really didn’t want to go public. “I can keep ‘em quiet. You worried about media?”

“A little, yeah.” Clover ran his fingers through his hair.

_ A lot, _ Qrow translated. “We don’t have to figure it out now, it’s not like you’re their first guess. Besides, you might get tired of me before the playoffs and then it’s moot anyway.”

“You shouldn’t do that, you know.”

“Procrastinating has gotten me through a lot in life, actually.”

“I meant the self-deprecation. That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

_ Boyfriend. _

Qrow’s heart did  _ not _ flutter and he did  _ not _ feel all warm and fuzzy inside at the thought, because he wasn’t a damn  _ teenager. _ His brain chose that moment to need to reboot again because he’d been exquisitely railed less than an hour ago, that’s all. “Boyfriend, huh?” Damn it. He couldn’t keep the shake out of his voice. “I like the sound of that.”

“I’ll change your name in my contacts,” Clover echoed his words from earlier, his smile pressed into Qrow’s chest.

Eventually Clover’s phone rang, because he was the sort of person to set an alarm for when he had to be places. Qrow couldn’t relate. He reluctantly helped Clover get dressed again in his game day suit, then helped with more enthusiasm when he realized it meant he could put Clover’s tie on for him. His hands pressed gently against Clover’s collarbones as he worked, and there was a kind of intimacy to it that made his cheeks warm.

When he finished, Clover’s hand pulled gently at the back of his head until he looked up enough that they could kiss, one last time. Clover’s lips were soft and unbearably gentle. “I’ll call you tomorrow after the game, okay?”

“Okay,” Qrow replied weakly, then cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, talk to you then, Cloves.”

Clover’s smile radiated smugness. “Goodnight, Qrow.”

“‘Night.”

And like that, Qrow was alone in his apartment again. As if in a trance, he walked back to his bed and sat down. It still smelled like Clover. Frankly, he was still in disbelief about the whole thing. He absent-mindedly pulled out his phone and scrolled back through their text messages. Yup, there it was. He’d invited Clover over. Clover had been at his apartment. Clover  _ liked _ him. Even thinking about it brought a smile to his face.

It became dangerous, how much the thought of Clover made him smile. The kids noticed immediately the next day.

“Sooooo how’s it going with Steve?”

“I’m not telling you his name, pipsqueak.”

“When are we gonna meet him?”

Qrow whistled. “Alright, everyone, Ruby and Yang here had a great idea. Line up, we’re conditioning today.”

Everyone groaned. Qrow smirked. He loved his kids. He also loved making them do things they hated that were good for them.

Clover laughed over the phone when he called that night and told him. “Harsh, coach.”

“They knew the risks.” Qrow placed his phone on the counter while he threw dishes in the sink. “Besides, there’s a tournament in a few weeks, they need it.”

“Oh? Where are you headed?”

“Only a few hours out, but we treat it as an ‘away’ game and grab hotel rooms anyway. Gives the kids a chance to bond or something. Means I’ll be out for your next game, though.”

“Shame,” Clover said. “That’s the last Vale game for a few weeks. I’ll miss you, babe.”

Qrow still felt his heart skip a beat when Clover called him ‘babe.’ “You’ll just have to make up for it the next time you’re in town,” his voice said without consulting him.

Clover laughed again, but this time it was low and soft and did  _ things _ to Qrow’s legs. He rubbed gently at his shirt, just over where Clover’s mouth had left his marks. “Oh, I intend to.”

He did. And then some. Qrow was happy it was getting colder, because his new hickey-hiding scarf was no longer suspicious.

The tournament also went well for the kids. And what’s more, a few days before another Aces-Hunters game, an email had popped into Qrow’s inbox with front-of-section tickets. There was a note with them.  _ Best I could get for a group. —C _

Nora lost her mind when he announced it to the team. “I am going to be in the same room as  _ Elm Ederne!” _ she screeched, holding her stick above her head like it was a war cry.

“Figured you could all use a reward for placing at the tourna—” was as far as Qrow got before he was tackled by Ruby.

“Uncle Qrow this is awesome! We can make signs and show up for warm-ups and everything!”

So he found himself at the game half an hour early, right up against the glass with his tactical scarf and ridiculous hat, next to a screaming Nora holding a giant sign proclaiming “HEY ELM DO YOU NEED A NEW BEST FRIEND?” watching the Atlas Aces warm up and listening as Ruby rattled off a truly frightening number of stats about his boyfriend and the rest of the Aces starting line.

“Harriet  _ always _ wins the speed competition at the All-Star game, and ooh! That’s Marrow, he’s the other winger, he’s new this year but he’s already gotten more assists—”

Yang bumped Qrow’s elbow and grinned. “Fond memories for you?”

Qrow huffed. “Glad to be on this side of the glass this time. They shoot almost as hard as you.” He looked around the rink for a quick count. Jaune, Pyrrha, and Oscar were watching the Hunters warm up, but his nieces and the rest of the team were on this side. “Are you all going to end up Aces fans? You know Vale has a team, too.”

_ “Elm. Ederne!” _

“Nora, you’re a lost cause, I know that. Weiss, too, since Ice Queen is in goal.”

“Jealous?” Weiss shot back from the glass.

“Of being starting goalie for the Tightasses? No thanks. But I thought Tai raised you two better.”

“Solidarity to get Nora a puck!” Ruby shouted, and went back to waving frantically at Ederne.

Clover was over by the bench, talking to someone, but he looked up for a brief moment and flashed a smile before skating off to Ederne and whispering something.

At the end of warm-ups, Ederne came over and flipped a puck to Nora over the glass. For the first time since Qrow met her, Nora was speechless.

“I think she liked your sign, Nora,” Ren said, and that shook her out of it. Her screech of joy nearly overpowered the blasting music.

The game itself was its own experience, the kids constantly cheering and fighting over calls amongst themselves. But the upshot of their infighting was that it left Qrow free to fixate on every moment Clover’s skates hit the ice. Clover was unshakeable, and even with pressure from the Hunters his passes were crisp and on target. It was like he knew where everyone was and where everyone was going to be.

“What’s got you so laser-focused?”

Yang’s voice snapped him out of it as the buzzer sounded for the end of the third. He didn’t get another hat trick, but Elm Ederne did, and two of them were off passes from Clover. He watched them go down the tunnel, and when he looked back Yang was still smirking at him.

“Nothing,” he said. “Ice Queen had a good game, I guess.”

“Naturally,” Weiss said, nodding once.

“I think Uncle Qrow was looking more at the Hunters’ half of the ice,” Yang continued, and oh no, he could see the gears turning in her head. He had to think of something. Oobleck’s tape job was shit? True, but not big enough. Something vague about skating? No, not enough either. Fuck, he was out of time.

Yang leaned over into his space. “Qrow, you said you didn’t get a  _ Hunter’s _ number. Did you—”

“Time to go before the trains fill up! Let’s go, kiddos,” Qrow shouted in his best coaching voice, then ushered Yang out into the aisle and said more quietly, “How much.”

Yang snorted. “To keep  _ this _ quiet? You and me, private stick and shoot. Oscar’s not enough of a challenge yet.”

“Done. No telling Ruby, either.” He knew damn well she’d tell Ruby eventually, but he could at least hold it off for a week or two. He needed to talk to Clover about it. Yang didn’t know  _ who _ it was on the Aces yet, at least.

“Fine,” Yang said, lying through her teeth. “But, Uncle Qrow?”

“Yeah, firecracker?”

“Is it serious?”

Qrow nearly tripped on the stairs.

_ Was it? _

“I…I think so.”  _ I hope so. _

Yang nodded. “Good. When you bring him to breakfast, dibs on giving the shovel talk first.”

Qrow groaned and ushered them all out of the arena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- SAPs (spouses and partners) is this universe’s version of WAGs (wives and girlfriends), which the NHL can steal at _any time._  
>  \- I didn’t mean to nearly verbatim the deflect-a-compliment line but it just happened. Qrow will you stop deflecting for five minutes also Clover will you stop holding your important emotions deep inside yourself  
> \- At games, after warm ups sometimes players will toss pucks to fans, this is very exciting. Usually small children get dibs, but sometimes if your sign is particularly amusing to someone, you’ll get one. Anyway, seemed like a thing Clover would be willing to swing for the kids at this point :)


	8. Called In, Called Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover gets pulled into the coach's office and is asked to make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one hurts, y'all.

This had all spiraled rapidly out of hand, to be honest.

Not that Clover would complain. Who knew an impulsive choice while high on postgame adrenaline would turn into what he had with Qrow? Visiting him was the highlight of away games now. Every little call or text brightened his day. He loved hearing about Qrow’s team of children he seemed to have practically adopted, loved hearing Qrow snark in response to his excellent puns. And seeing them all at the game had been even more fun than he thought it would be. He’d gotten Elm to throw them a puck, and he had mostly succeeded in not laughing at how adorable Qrow looked in the most ridiculous  _ sparkling _ beanie he’d ever seen. It had a pompom that  _ bounced _ when he talked, for fuck’s sake.

He had been about to text Qrow to ask for the story behind it when he’d been called into the coach’s office. No surprises there. It was about time to pick someone to send to the All-Star game. Marrow was doing well, it would be good to send someone new. Harriet might be pissed, but Clover could handle that.

But James didn’t smile when he came in. “You’ve been seeing someone in Vale?”

Clover froze.

James sighed. “You know what I’m about to ask you. The general manager doesn’t want players distracted by personal relationships.”

Clover knew. But he’d been  _ careful. _ He’d gotten the tickets through a friend. He was always back before curfew with an explanation. He’d talked to Qrow about it, without exposing the team’s inner politics. Qrow had respected his wishes and agreed to keep it private. How did James  _ know? _

When Clover still didn’t respond, James sighed and put his head in one hand. “Clover, I wouldn’t be asking if I had any other option. We’re in the running for the cup this year, and Schnee is insistent we bring it home. He’s convinced this is the last chance for this roster before we have to do a rebuild. We need you focused, Clover.”

_ You win or your contract’s up. _ Clover knew how this worked. He finally gathered his thoughts together enough to speak. “I’m still producing. My personal life hasn’t affected my game. Why now? How did you even know?”

James looked up at him, then away. “I didn’t. Schnee did.” He handed Clover a tablet. On the screen was a picture of Clover, entering Qrow’s apartment.

Clover heard the plastic case creak under his hands. “Schnee had me  _ tailed?” _

“Schnee owns the team, half the Atlesian sports media outlets, and the jet you fly on, WiFi included.”  _ Of course he had you tailed. _ “I know this isn’t ideal. But he’ll be easier to reason with after this season. All he wants is his legacy. One championship, and we might be able to get him to step back. No media catastrophe needed.”

_ Take one for the team, Clover. _

It was dirty of James to offer the promise of removing Jacques Schnee from their lives. But he had a point. Schnee had been nothing but awful to the team since he bought it, but with the kind of control that kind of money got you, their hands were tied. He’d be able to spin any reason they were able to get rid of him as a reason to axe the entire team. But if he left willingly, or even just played a less active role, they could keep the team going. Everyone would be happy.

Except, in this case, Clover.

But that was worth it, right?

“I need to know by tomorrow, Clover. You have that long. Dismissed.”

Clover left the office without a word.

He  _ trusted _ James, and that was the worst part. James thought through every angle, every possible scenario. It’s what made him a great coach. He  _ had _ to be right. James cared about the team even more than Clover did. It was only because of James that Schnee hadn’t started calling the shots at practices himself. If this was what James had concluded, then this was it.

Clover had been drafted by the Aces. He’d been here his whole career, his whole  _ life. _ He’d watched the team go from a shade of its early glory, to something promising under James’ watch, to a powerhouse that consistently tallied the most points in the regular season. They were so  _ close _ to the title. They’d worked for so  _ long. _ The team deserved this.

He called Qrow.

“Hey Cloves, listen, Yang—”

“Qrow.” Clover winced at the tone of his voice.

Silence. Then, “Yeah, okay. What’s up?”

“We,” Clover swallowed. “We need to end this.” How could he explain? Schnee was the team’s wretched secret, one they had to deal with on their own. It wasn’t Qrow’s to know. There was no telling how long it would be until they could truly be rid of him. No justifiable reason to string Qrow along.

Qrow deserved a clean break. Clover took a deep breath and waited.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Clover flinched. Qrow didn’t sound like that, ever. Sardonic, maybe, but never  _ hollow. _ Something in Clover’s chest twisted. “I’m sorry. It’s—”

“Not you, it’s me, yeah, I got it Clover.” How long had it been since Qrow called him by his actual name? “See you around, I guess.”

Clover’s phone beeped twice. Qrow had hung up.

He was still staring at it twenty minutes later, knees tucked to his chest on the floor of an empty hallway.

It was for the best, he told himself. Qrow could move on. Clover could focus on hockey.

Clover got up and headed to the parking garage. He tried not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter is shorter because it hurts me personally  
> \- Jacques Schnee probably shouldn’t be the GM and the owner but let’s add that to the list of his bad choices he is here to build Drama and Drama Alone  
> \- Okay but really: the thing I love about Atlas in RWBY is that, alongside the really intense loyalty themes, the way all the Atlesian characters have dealt with their emotions resonates with some real bad worldviews that I’ve encountered (and even tried to have, once). There isn’t always redemption for that in real life, but for the sake of this fic there will be for Clover, because [I crave a soft epilogue at all times.](https://cardiamachina.co.vu/post/187132533998/love-time-stops-doesnt-it-are-we-not) James even almost has a redemption arc. But not Jacques Schnee. Fuck that guy.


	9. Boarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qrow and Yang get burgers. The team examines evidence.

Qrow dropped his phone into his gear bag and got ready for his stick and shoot with Yang.

Five minutes later, Yang ran into the locker room. “Sorry I’m late! Had to—Qrow?”

Qrow looked up. He hadn’t moved. Huh. “It’s nothing.” He went to grab his blockers.

“Ooookay,” Yang eyed him suspiciously, but dumped her bag down across from him and opened it. “So, I know this was sorta a bribe thing, but you know we’d all be really happy for you, right? Like, whoever you’re dating—”

“We’re not,” Qrow said quietly. “Not anymore.”

It shouldn’t hurt this much. He  _ knew _ this would happen. Clover got tired of him, because who was Qrow anyway, to hold the attention of an RHL star. Clover probably had met someone in Atlas, someone who traveled in the same circles, who could go with him to charity balls or whatever Atlas elites did for fun—

Yang tapped his shoulder. “No practice. We’re getting burgers.”

They grabbed a booth at the restaurant across the street, a place Qrow had only ever set foot in after games, when everyone was starving and didn’t care much what was on offer. Yang shoved both their bags under the table, nearly upending the condiment holder in the process, and ordered the usual for the both of them.

She broke the silence after their shakes arrived. “So, whose legs do I gotta break?”

Qrow hunched over even further on his side of the booth. “Yang.”

Yang’s vicious look faltered, and she relaxed back into the cushions. “Shit. That bad?”

“We—” Qrow swallowed. “He just called me.”

Yang cursed again, and Qrow didn’t have it in him to call her out on it. No one else was here, anyway. Wasn’t much point. But something about it irritated him. “You know, I might have dumped him. Making a lot of assumptions, here.”

“Not the way you were talking about him. He dumped you over the  _ phone?” _

Qrow tried to laugh. “Put that way it just sounds pathetic.”

“Sounds like he’s an  _ asshole, _ is what it sounds like. Who  _ does _ that?”

Clover Ebi, apparently. Qrow tried to hide his wince by taking a sip of the shake. It was almost unbearably sweet, but he’d take it. He’d been so  _ stupid. _

Yang let the conversation taper off, which was an indicator in itself of how Qrow probably looked. They ate mostly in silence when their food came, and it was only after she’d finished hers and asked for a box for his that she spoke to him again.

“Leg-breaking offer still stands, but I can back off. You gonna be okay?”

Qrow felt a stab of guilt in his gut.  _ He _ was supposed to be supporting  _ them. _ And now one little phone call and it was back to this, to his nieces  _ worrying _ about him. He forced a small smile. “Thanks. I’ll be fine, really. Just need some time. We can practice again next week.”

Yang’s expression flashed with anger for a moment, but smoothed out to a patient smile. “Sure, Uncle Qrow. Sounds good.”

* * *

“He  _ what!?” _ Nora shouted.

“Right? Who does that?” Yang groaned and rolled backwards from the armrest onto the couch and Blake’s lap. Blake, ever patient, ran her fingers carefully through her girlfriend’s hair.

Yang had called an emergency meeting at her and Blake’s apartment, because they had the most lounge space. It was hard to fit most of the team, but they were managing, and besides, this was  _ important. _

“We don’t even know who it was?” Jaune asked.

“We do!” Ruby shouted and turned on the TV. “Yang! The evidence!”

Yang held up her phone and flicked the screen. A screenshot of the Atlas bench appeared on the TV. “Exhibit A: the Atlas bench during the game Qrow played. This is right after Qrow’s first save.”

“What are we supposed to be looking at?”

Nora gasped. “Ren,  _ look harder.” _ She walked over to where Ren had pulled a chair closer to the couch and swiveled his head to the far right of the screen and pointed. “There!”

“That’s the Atlas bench.”

Blake rolled her eyes and took Yang’s phone. “Here.” She zoomed into the spot Nora was shouting about.

Clover Ebi was sitting between Harriet Bree and Marrow Amin, who both looked somewhere between dismay and fury. Clover, on the other hand—

“Look at that boy and tell me he isn’t in love!”

“He does look quite…starstruck,” Pyrrha mused.

“You can appreciate skill without being in love, Nora.” Weiss examined the picture. “Qrow is…decent enough. It’s not out of the question.”

“I’m telling him you said that!” Ruby sang.

Yang winced. True, it was the closest thing Weiss had ever said to a compliment, but… “Probably not the best time. Uncle Qrow took it really hard.”

“Regardless, it still doesn’t prove it was Ebi,” Weiss said. “How would that have even happened?”

“We dug way back into the Atlas media feeds from right after the game. Exhibit B!” Ruby connected the the TV and displayed a short post from a reporter declaring that Clover had left the media scrum early for unknown reasons. “Clover Ebi is absent from the Aces’ locker room after the game against Uncle Qrow. Some speculation of injury begins, but no injury is announced! What could he have been doing? Exhibit C! Qrow starts texting ‘a fan’ right after the game who ‘isn’t a Vale Hunter.’ No mention of the Atlas Aces! Therefore, we can only conclude—”

“That’s circumstantial at best, that would never hold up in court.”

“Weiss!” Ruby whined, then gasped. “Oh! Exhibit D! Ask Winter if Clover has been seeing anyone!”

“I am  _ not _ calling Winter just to  _ gossip.” _

“Texts are also allowed as evidence!”

“No. But,” Weiss sighed as Ruby gave her best puppy dog eyes. “I will consider bringing it up when we speak next.”

“Yes! Exhibit D: Ongoing!”

“I wonder what happened. You said Qrow thought it was serious, right?” Blake asked, scrolling through her own phone.

Yang threw up her hands. “Yeah, like, a  _ day _ before Clover cut it off! How could he just string him along like that?”

“I don’t believe it for a second,” Nora said, pulling up her own chair and putting her chin in her hand as she looked at the screen. “No one who looks at someone like that and texts Qrow as much as he has just cuts off like that.”

“Uh—”

“Atlas would.” Weiss’ voice was cold.  _ “If _ it’s Ebi—”

“Which it is,” Yang insisted.

“—it would explain why it was done so quietly. No one on the Aces dates unless it’s someone respectable. Appearances matter more than anything in Atlas.”

“Hey! Uncle Qrow is respectable!” Ruby turned, frowning.

“Hey—”

“He’s a  _ junior league coach in Vale, _ you really think that Atlas cares—”

“You all should really—”

“He’s the best coach in the world and beat them at their own game, Atlas  _ wishes _ they had someone like him—”

Blake sighed. “Yang?”

Yang’s whistle stopped them all mid-sentence. She partially sat up to kiss Blake. “Go ahead, babe.”

“Clover just did a press conference.” Blake connected to the TV and pulled it up.

The clip started with some chuckles from the gathered press, but the camera stayed on Clover’s face the entire time. He was smiling like he just told a joke. “So, dating anyone yourself there, Mr. Ebi?” someone asked from off-screen.

Clover’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before the mask was back on. “Uh, no. Not right now. Haven’t for a while, really. This team, we’ve really got something special, so we’re all really focused on making it work. It’s not worth getting distracted.”

Blake paused it there. No one spoke for a few seconds.

“I’m gonna kick his ass into next week,” Yang announced.

“Get in line,” Nora grumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- “Boarded” is when someone hits you against the wall of the rink, really knocks the air out of you.  
> \- I used to have hockey practice at a rink across from not one, but two extremely bland chain restaurants with huge portions, it was excellent. This is where I imagine they go. Please imagine whatever restaurant you like, I’m imagining an Applebee’s.  
> \- Qrow seems like the sort of person who would tolerate a strawberry shake, that didn’t quite make it in but I feel it in my bones for no reason at all  
> \- Either Clover can’t lie for shit or the kids are really good at sensing bullshit, or both.


	10. Swept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we go to Clover.

Clover wanted to punch the wall or cry, or both. Outside the trainer’s room, he heard the buzzer sound in his home arena. Their fourth loss of the playoffs.

Swept. The Atlas Aces, points leaders of the regular season, just got  _ fucking swept out of the playoffs, _ and he hadn’t even been on the bench to witness it.

He hoped Elm had gotten a good hit on Lionheart in return, at least. Fucking hell, it hurt to  _ breathe. _ “Good news, I don’t think it’s fully broken,” the trainer was saying. “Rib’s probably just fractured. We’ll get you some pain meds and you’ll be back next season.”

Clover let out a brief laugh before the pain cut him off again. Next season. After this, he doubted he’d still be in Atlas next season.

They sent him home with a prescription and an ice pack. James hadn’t even come by to see him. He collapsed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. On reflex, his hand reached out for his phone and opened up his texting chain with Qrow. The last thing Qrow had sent was a picture of Nora holding the puck Elm had given her, mouth open in a joyful scream.

Clover’s heart ached, adding to the pain in his chest. He  _ missed _ Qrow, and for what? Two more miserable months of hockey where all he could think about was how dead Qrow’s voice had been when he’d called. But then, Qrow was probably over it by now. Probably found someone he could go on actual dates with, who wouldn’t drop him at the whim of some asshole in the front office.

He almost laughed again before remembering how much it hurt. And now, because of that same asshole, he was going to be traded. Really, there wasn’t much left for him to lose, career-wise. He could go public, tell everyone the kind of shit Schnee was pulling—

Someone knocked on his door with three precise, sharp knocks.

“That was fast,” Clover muttered. He groaned, and slowly stood up. The trip to the door took longer than he’d hoped, but it was fine. He knew who it was. James would wait.

When he opened the door, James was still in his suit, holding a very official looking briefcase. “Hello, Clover. May I come in?”

Clover shrugged with one shoulder and stepped aside.

“I’m glad to hear it wasn’t more serious. The trainers say you should be fine in a matter of weeks.”

Clover eyed the briefcase with suspicion. “Did Schnee have that ready to go?”

“Hm? Oh, no, this is mine.” James placed it on the kitchen table and clicked it open. “Just some printouts I made just now. I thought you might want to see them.”

“Some printouts” to James was a well organized ream of paper. Clover glanced at the top page. “Emails?” he asked.

James kept speaking. “I wish it hadn’t happened this way, Clover. I know this loss hurts, but I want you to know it isn’t your fault. This is a team sport, and frankly it’s more than just the players on that team. We as an organization are at fault, and we need to do better in the future. I think we should start that process internally, but eventually, I also believe we need to be more transparent. Go public, if you will, about how the organization runs.”

Clover flipped through the pages, still warm from being printed. It was organized chronologically, starting with a welcome email detailing exactly how Schnee wanted the team to be run, and thinly veiled threats of what would happen if they weren’t carried out. The others were much the same.

The last email explicitly mentioned Clover and demanded he end his relationship with “some Vale trash not worth my time.”

Clover’s hands were shaking. “Why show this to me  _ now?” _

James glanced at the papers. “Are you aware of the Fearless Flyer?”

“The newspaper?” Clover began to understand. The newspaper that was one of the few not owned by Jacques Schnee. It was also gaining popularity in Mantle, probably for that reason. They’d published a number of stories exposing various misdealings with Schnee-held companies. Some of them had even started litigation. They were single-handedly responsible for tanking Schnee’s popularity in the city.

James nodded. “Hill is well-known for breaking stories like ours. I thought you might be interested in talking to her.”

Clover couldn’t tell if this was just another of James’ plans or if the man was trying to apologize, somehow. Maybe both. Clover wasn’t sure if he was ready to go along with either. James had been the one to set him down the path to ending things with Qrow, after all. Even if the order had come from Schnee, James could have refused, could have defended him.

But if he had, he wouldn’t have this perfect excuse of a sob story to go to Hill with. A brokenhearted hometown captain, forced to give up on love by the manager, leads his dream team down a humiliating run of losses and out of the playoffs. Everyone in Atlas would be against Schnee, just for the drama of it all. There’d be consequences, to be sure, but Clover could afford a good lawyer. His reputation would survive. And it might—just might—mean he could try and apologize to Qrow. Even just for that, Clover would do it. James probably assumed as much.

It was just like James to have managed to make a plan out of all this. On a win, he could have convinced Schnee to rest on his laurels. On a loss like this, he was asking Clover to drag Schnee’s name through the mud for him. It was a good plan, and Clover hated him for it.

Ironwood seemed to pick up on that, at least. He closed up the empty briefcase. “It’s up to you. I’m not asking as part of the team. If you want to go through with it, you can. If you want to burn them, that’s your right as well. I’ll let you know when I hear from Schnee about your contract.”

Clover didn’t watch him go. The door clicked shut behind him.

He slept on it, or tried to. But he knew what the answer would be. He’d start making calls in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- For people super new to the sports side of this “getting swept” is a sports term, and all you really need to know is that if it happens to a really good team, that’s bad to the point of being embarrassing. In somewhat more words, it means “to proceed to the next round of Sportsing you needed to win X out of Y games, and instead you lost X games in a row and no longer get to Sport.” For the NHL, generally X=4 and Y=7.  
> \- Really, the fact that Clover was in a funk was probably not the only reason they were swept, sweeps also just happen, hockey is a chaos sport, but he’s team captain and I figure he’d take it hard  
> \- Had to look up a lot about broken ribs here, also honestly not sure if an NHL team wouldn’t just force someone to play through it, culture’s bad yo. But it’s my fic and the RHL is gonna be good at handling most injuries and probably still really bad about concussions  
> \- Yeah the Fearless Flyer is a Trader Joe’s thing but also, that’s exactly what I think Robyn Hill would name her newspaper if she had one.  
> \- Do James machinations make sense? Idk writing characters smarter than myself is hard. Also honestly I couldn’t make James’ full redemption arc here, he’s got a longer road from where I started him in this one. I think he still gets one offscreen eventually in this AU, but it stops being Clover’s problem right about here.


	11. Game Misconduct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang finally gets to give her shovel talk.

The season was over, but breakfast stopped for no one. Qrow would never admit it, but it was comforting to have them all show up at his place with piles of breakfast food and horrible snacks and Nora’s progressively more terrifying energy drinks. Being alone with his thoughts hadn’t appealed much of late. Ruby and Yang sat with him at the kitchen table, the rest of the kids sprawled out on the couch or the floor in close proximity. When Ruby’s phone buzzed, he thought nothing of it.

But when she sent a response and everyone else’s phone buzzed, he got suspicious. The room went absolutely silent, which was almost unheard of. “All right, what is it.”

“Clover Ebi is speaking out against the Aces,” Weiss said, stunned. “Against my  _ father.” _

Qrow tried to sip coffee casually and nearly burned himself. “He, uh, that’s fine, right? Your dad’s a jackass.”

_ “Clover’s _ a jackass,” Nora mumbled. Qrow frowned. Did she—

Weiss was still reading, and summarized for the room. “He had players followed in their personal lives and forced them to cut ties with anything he disapproved of. He treated them like  _ children.” _

“That’s not how children should be treated, either,” Blake said quietly.

“I should clarify: he treated them like his  _ own _ children.” Weiss’ words were sharp. “Apparently Ebi was…oh.”

“Was  _ what?” _ Nora groaned and furiously scrolled through the article to catch up.

“He was seeing someone in Vale,” Ruby said quietly from the table. Qrow’s heart seized on a shred of hope he didn’t know he still had. “Schnee caught him and made him end it.”

“Yang!” Nora shouted. “New leg-breaking target?”

Yang cracked her knuckles in response.

While Qrow’s heart lost any sense of rhythm, his mind was racing to understand what was going on. Something had happened to Clover. Someone had  _ made _ Clover… And somehow the kids knew it would matter to him, knew what it would mean to him.

There were too many people in his home for Qrow to be feeling these feelings. There wasn’t enough space to deal with them.

“Uncle Qrow, he just did a press conference.” Ruby held up her phone. A video was playing with the sound muted. “Do you want to…?”

He had to know. He had to know, and knowing was going to crush him all over again. Qrow swallowed, but nodded.

Ruby unmuted the video. Qrow felt the rush of air as the rest of the team crowded around the table to see the tiny screen.

“—happened gradually enough that no one thing felt like enough to bring up, until now,” Clover was saying. They hadn’t done very good makeup for him. His face was blotchy and red, like—like he’d been crying. “But after this season, I finally started to look back on what had piled up, you know? We—as players, you sign on to dedicate your life to the team. But you don’t sign on for this. To hurt people you care about.”

Oh no. No, no, no. Clover couldn’t care about him. Clover had to not care, because Qrow had to not care. If Clover cared—

_ “What happened to the person you were seeing in Vale? Have you reached out?” _

“I—” Clover pushed a hand through his hair. Qrow’s own hand twitched at his side. “I haven’t. I didn’t—they didn’t know about all this. I thought—it doesn’t matter what I thought. I don’t know where to start over. I don’t know if we could. I hope he—I hope they’re alright. They deserved better.”

_ “Seems like you liked them a lot. You’re not going to try again?” _

“I…I do.” Clover sighed and winced. He’d gotten injured, right? “But that’s not my choice to make. Next question.”

“Turn it off, Ruby. Please.”

“Uncle Qrow? Are you—”

Qrow shook his head. “No. I think—I think I’m gonna go to Patch. Haven’t seen Tai in a while. Good time of year for it, end of the season and all. Maria’s got enough help at the gym.”

Qrow’s phone rang.  _ Incoming Call: Cloves. _

Yang glanced at it from her seat and exchanged a look with Ruby. “We’ll leave you to that,” Ruby said, and ushered everyone out of his apartment in under a minute.

Qrow didn’t move and let the call go to voicemail. After about a minute, there was a voicemail notification. His curiosity got the better of him. He let it play.

_ “Hey Qrow, it’s me. _

_ “I wasn’t sure if you saw the news but I wanted you to hear it from me as well. I—I messed up. I should have explained. I should have told Schnee to go fuck himself. But I didn’t, and I hurt you for it. I’m—I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” _

Clover’s breathing on the other end of the line was shaky at best, but he kept going.  _ “I thought it was the right thing to do, I thought it was right  _ because _ it hurt so much. But I—I miss seeing you. I miss everything. _

_ “I hope you’re doing okay. I meant it: you deserved so much better. But if you wanted…if you wanted to try again, you have my number. Take care, Qrow.” _

* * *

In the end, it worked like Ironwood’s plans always did. Success at cost. Schnee stepped down, the team got space to breathe, and Clover got traded. He wasn’t sad to see Atlas go.

The fact that he was traded to  _ Vale _ of all places felt like both a blessing and a curse. He didn’t call Qrow again, but he didn’t stop checking his phone, either.

Clover knew he was overstepping, but something brought him back to that damn diner anyway. It was one of the only breakfast places he knew about in Vale and even if it reminded him of how badly he’d fucked up, the memory of Qrow still had a thread of warmth to it. Maybe somewhere, in another life, a Clover who had stuck by him was happy. He wished them well.

He was halfway through a plate of salmon and hash browns before he felt like he was being watched. Trying to be casual, he glanced around.

Qrow’s team was glaring daggers at him from their booth. The yellow-haired girl especially—Yang?—looked ready to break his kneecaps. Something in his expression must have given away that he would have let her, and she beckoned him to their table.

It felt like being brought into Ironwood’s office again, but worse. He knew Ironwood wanted to help, no matter what he ended up choosing. He had no such reassurances here.

“Have a seat, Mr. Ebi,” said a girl that Clover would have bet half his new salary was Weiss.

Clover sat. “I know you have every reason—”

Nora shouted him down wordlessly. Clover shut up. 

Ruby, the younger one in red, put down her mug of hot chocolate and spoke. “I think I speak for all of us when I say: what were you  _ thinking?” _

Clover waited until he was certain she actually wanted an answer. “I wasn’t. Not well.”

“It’s never been very high on the list of qualities Atlas looks for,” Weiss said, sipping her tea. If her appearance hadn’t marked her as Winter’s sister, the depth of disdain in her tone would have confirmed it.

“Why’d you call him?” Ruby asked again. Nora had leaned all the way over the table to squint at him.

“To apologize. And for selfish reasons.” No point in trying to save face here. He was just going to have to trust. “If he’d have me, I wanted to try again.”

“Do you still like him?” Nora demanded, still scanning his face for something.

Clover took in a sharp breath and winced. His ribs were mostly healed, but the reflex was still there. As if to compensate for the lack of physical pain, a sudden barrage of  _ Qrow _ filled his mind. Qrow with his ridiculous beanie, Qrow in his goalie gear and murderous stare, Qrow laughing over dinner, Qrow smiling, Qrow smiling and pressed against his chest, warm and solid and—

_ “Yes,” _ Clover choked out. He stared down Nora and tried to mean it, really  _ mean _ it, to drop the Atlas public face and let the hurt and regret show through. It wasn’t hard, these days.

Nora kept staring for a good ten seconds, then nodded once and leaned back. “I’d give him another shot.  _ One _ more shot, Ebi. That’s it.”

“But Nora’s not the one you need to convince,” said a boy to her left. Quieter, but sitting close to Nora. Her d-pair, what was his name?

“Ren’s right.” Ruby said, and that was it, Nora and Ren were a pair. “It’s Uncle Qrow’s choice in the end. Although you don’t talk to him until you’ve cleared us. Verdict?”

The other members of the team tentatively nodded. There were two left he hadn’t heard from yet, but by process of elimination he was able to determine Jaune and Pyrrha sitting across from him. They nodded as well. Pyrrha’s smile was kind and made him almost hope.

“Thank you,” Clover said, and meant it.

“If he wants to talk, we’ll let you know,” Ruby declared.

Clover looked confused. “How?”

“We have our ways,” Ruby tried to say mysteriously, completely undercut by Weiss rolling her eyes and giving Clover a look.

Oh, he absolutely could  _ not _ have Winter involved. “What if I just gave you my number? Please?”

Weiss’ smirk spoke volumes. “Oh, I really don’t think that will be necessa—”

“Yes!”

Weiss sighed. “We could have at least made him beg forgiveness for another minute.”

Ruby shrugged. “He said he apologized, and Nora cleared his face.”

He swapped numbers with Ruby and headed back to his table to pay, but before he could go, a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“You break his heart again, Nora and I break your legs, got it, Lucky Charm?” Yang’s wink was friendly and her tone was unsettlingly bright for its content.

_ Again? _ “Got it,” Clover swallowed, and despite the flash of fear he couldn’t stop his mind from buzzing. Nothing had materially changed. Qrow still hadn’t responded. But he was letting himself hope again, and that made his chest feel just a little lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Generally two defensive players on the ice for a team at once are referred to as a d-pair, because they will play together and switch out together. Feels like a good Renora dynamic. Nora could absolutely be an offensive defense, and Ren balances out by being good at hanging back and covering for her.


	12. Center Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We wrap it all up in a happy bow because I'm a sucker for it.

Patch was good for him. Patch was great, actually, because it had terrible enough cell service that he just turned the thing off, and a resident brother-in-law who made nothing but comfort food. And a dog, but Qrow just had to deal with that.

His phone’s battery barely survived the reconnection to service. He had a hundred texts, mostly from Ruby, a dozen missed calls, also from Ruby, and a text each from every hockey-adjacent person he knew with a link to the same damn article.

Clover Ebi had been traded to Vale.

Patch had been good to Qrow. He took a deep breath, then another. Clover was here, and that was fine. He’d be fine.

That lasted until he got back to his apartment. At least, he thought, he wasn’t despondent. Now he was just pissed. Clover had broken it off _over the phone,_ and not because he wanted to but because he was _under orders._ A stupid man. A stupid man with a cocky smile and horrible puns and—

Enough. He’d run to have time to think, and now he was back. Did he want to…try again, as Clover had said? Did he want to open himself up to that kind of pain again?

Not the same kind, he reminded himself. Oh, no. He wouldn’t just let the things Clover had kept from him slide. Oh, he and Clover were going to _talk._

Well, shit. He’d made the decision, then, hadn’t he?

First things first. He called Ruby back. “Hey pipsqueak. What’s going on?”

“Uncle Qrow welcome back! Hey everyone, Qrow’s back!” Qrow heard the quality of the call change. Ruby must have put him on speaker.

 _“Have you told him about Clover yet!?”_ Nora stage whispered in the background.

“I already know, Nora. It’s fine.”

“Great! So when do you wanna meet him?”

“What?”

“I think he meant the trade, Nora,” Blake suggested.

“Well tell him about the other thing!”

Qrow smiled despite the sudden anxiety about _the other thing._ He’d missed these goobers and their complete inability to filter. “What other thing?”

“We _may_ have met Clover at the diner last week,” Jaune admitted.

“He was quite sweet!” Pyrrha chimed in.

Qrow put his free hand over his eyes and dragged it down his face. “What did you say to him?” Please say they didn’t—

“We gave him a shovel talk!”

Damn it. “We’re not even dating anymore, Nora.”

“But do you want to?” Blake asked quietly. The line went quiet, probably waiting for his answer. Horrible gossips.

Qrow sighed and took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I might talk to him.”

* * *

_Got time for coffee?_

Clover responded immediately. _Of course. You want to pick a place?_

Qrow would, in fact, and sent him the location. _One hour._

Clover, of course, was on time, and stood outside the door with his obnoxiously perfect posture for a few minutes before Qrow decided it was time. He stalked out of the park towards Clover. “Lucky Charm!”

Clover startled, which was unfortunately adorable and going to take the edge off of Qrow’s planned grilling. “Qrow! How, uh, how are you?”

“Coffee first. You buying?”

Clover nodded and opened the door for him.

Qrow ordered his black. Clover ordered some monstrosity full of caramel. While they waited, Clover turned to him. “Qrow, I—”

“Nope. Coffee first. Then we go for a walk. _Then,_ we talk.” He didn’t plan on holding Clover like this forever, but if he was going to get to do it once, he was damn well going to enjoy it. Clover, for his part, got the picture and waited.

Qrow let them get their drinks and walk well away from the crowds before he started. He took a sip of his coffee to steel himself. “Alright. What the hell were you thinking?”

Clover tried for a small smile. “Your niece, Ruby, asked me the same thing. And I wasn’t.”

“Then why’d you walk away?”

“I…thought it was for the best. I trusted Ironwood with my life.”

“But not me.”

“No. I should have. Qrow, I’m so—”

“Ah, ah!” Qrow held up a finger and let it drop when Clover stopped. “Not done. No other reason?”

_Did you get bored of me? Was it just an excuse to leave like you wanted?_

Clover looked pained and confused. “What?” His eyes widened as he seemed to realize something. He looked down at Qrow’s hand and back up, asking. Qrow shrugged. Clover moved slowly, as if to give Qrow time to step back, and entwined their hands. _“Qrow._ I never wanted to end it. You—”

“You could have said no.”

Clover winced but kept going. “I could have. I _should_ have. And I have now. Hopefully no one else is asked to do what I did. I loved spending time with you. I looked forward to every Vale game, because I knew I could come see you. I wanted to come see you after the season was over. Maybe come see a game.”

Qrow scoffed. “You’ve already met the team.”

“Wish it had been under better circumstances, but yes. They’re wonderful, Qrow, and you’ve done well for them. They care so much about you.”

That bit, Qrow felt a little remorse about. “Yeah, sorry about the shovel talk.”

Clover shook his head and smiled that damn smile again. Small, a little unsure, something just for them. “I deserved it. And I figured, if I didn’t have a chance, they wouldn’t have bothered.”

Qrow took a deep breath. “Yeah, Cloves. You’ve got one do-over. _But,_ you don’t deny it in the press—”

“Never,” Clover agreed emphatically.

“And you owe Yang a stick-and-shoot.”

Clover broke into a grin. “I can do one better.” His smile faltered. “So, we’re good?”

“We’re working back up to it,” Qrow said magnanimously. “But, you can kiss me again, if you like.”

“I would like that very much,” Clover said as he pulled Qrow closer. His lips were as soft as they had always been.

* * *

“And they just let you do this?”

Clover winked. “I talked to Ozpin, he pulled a few strings. Did you talk to him, after the game?”

“Nope, but that’s Ozpin for ya. He seems to just know things.”

 _“Elm Ederne has skated on this ice!”_ Nora screamed.

They were skating lazy circles around the kids in the Vale Hunters’ arena, while the kids set up for a scrimmage. Qrow still couldn’t really believe it, but, here they were.

“Oh, actually there’s one more surprise,” Clover smiled. “I worked it out with your nieces.” Because he was dramatic like that, Clover held up a hand and waved at one of the offices.

The jumbotron flickered to life.

_Team JNPR vs. Team RWBY. 1st period, 20:00 remaining._

_In Goal: Qrow Branwen, Oscar Pine_

Qrow gawked. “Whoa. Didn’t think I’d see that again.”

“You like it?” Clover asked.

Qrow skated around in front of him, pulled off his own helmet, and kissed him. “It’s perfect, Cloves. They’ll love it.”

“Will you two stop making out and get set up, we’re starting!” Weiss shouted, making them both look over. The kids had set up their lines and were waiting.

“Wait, who gets Clover?” Oscar asked nervously.

“Whoever doesn’t get Qrow has Clover, and we switch goalies at half,” Jaune explained.

“Oh good,” Oscar breathed a sigh of relief and put his helmet on.

Clover turned back to Qrow. “Ready for a rematch?”

Qrow smirked. “You ready to lose again?”

“We’ll see about that.” Clover skated out to the center to take the face off. Qrow set up in goal across from him.

The puck dropped, and the game began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Clover’s order is a caramel macchiato. It’s my go-to in fics for some reason for “this person likes sweet things but doesn’t openly admit it.”  
> \- I feel like my characterization of Qrow swings a lot, but I felt like this was closer to what I wanted than a softer, more crying-filled version  
> \- Thank you for reading! I’m also PidgeonPostal on tumblr if you want to say hi, it’s a fairly quiet blog but I’m there and love yelling about episodes and headcanons


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